Change In Pressure
by loveoverpride
Summary: Olivia Pope, a session backup dancer, is ready to break away from the shadows and become the next big thing. Nothing and no one will get in her way. But when an opportunity arises that isn't quite what she had in mind, will she be able to loosen the tight reigns she has on her life and shift her focus?
1. Chapter 1

Hi there. This is a reworking of a story I wrote in 2014-2015, for another fandom. After re-reading it last year, I wanted to see how Olivia and Fitz could fit in this. This story will include humor, romance, some angst, and dance. (I teach and choreograph for a living, so combining two of my creative outlets is always cool.) It's not a long story (approx. 15-20 chapters), but it's substantial and I'll update every week.

Plus, it's my birthday so I thought why not share the story today?! I hope you'll give it a try. Leave a review or come hang out on Tumblr / Twitter.

* * *

"5, 6, 7, 8! Let's go!"

The bassline rang in her ears as she began. Powerfully stretching her legs into a chassé across the floor.

 _Flick, jump, pop, hold._

Creating unique shapes and razor-sharp lines with her body as she moved to the music. Hitting every beat when asked to. Lunging into a deep plié before executing a flawless triple pirouette, she glared at the target she used as a spot, finding it every time she whipped her head around. Giving the audience "fierce" ten times over whenever she made eye contact while performing. She wanted everyone to watch and keep their gaze on her. Notice what she could do.

As the group of eight dancers moved into a new formation, allowing their lines to switch, she waited for the turn to outshine them all again. Staying consistent, but always looking for that moment, she quickly turned as she returned to the front.

"Work it, Olivia! That's what I'm talking about."

The burst of energy was in her veins, each time anyone shouted her name. For the last 32 counts of the combination, Olivia Pope gave all she had, adding the extra flare when she contorted her figure, circling her shoulders seductively, pointing her toes, and stretching her arms out. Then with a deep breath, she hit a pose to coincide with the last chord of music. Although she wasn't alone and moved well with the seven performers, it didn't feel like she was part of a larger group. It was just her, reveling in the applause from the production table.

One of her favorite choreographers, Brigitta, ran to the front of the room. "Great work, everyone. I'll see you on Monday to review everything and we will start another piece."

As with every rehearsal, everyone clapped in appreciation at its finality. Olivia rushed over to her huge dance bag, in the corner. She pulled the towel, drying off the layers of perspiration, as well grabbing a water bottle. Gathering a few moments to decompress, she mumbled the sentences that always lingered when she danced.

 _I am a performer._

A soft hand grasped her sweaty shoulder. It was Stephen, the director of the musical revue Olivia was cast in. Their friendship and partnership traveled back to a time when Olivia was still a newbie in town, waiting to be called upon at auditions, having a number in the hundreds pinned to her shirt. He saw something in her and she was ready to be the best for him. Stephen was all about unbelievable commitment, hitting marks, and a strong work ethic. Olivia knew she was the right girl for him, because she was capable of providing what he needed in a dancer.

"Loved your energy today. Keep it up, alright?"

Olivia smiled, "Thank you. I will."

"Great," he beamed. "I'll catch you on the flip side."

She waited until he walked away to unravel her hair out of the rubber band. Usually pressed straight, her edges were beginning to curl again, due to the heat. Other dancers approached, giving hollow compliments, then wanting advice to keep up with the group, any tips for improvement. Even though she wasn't the choreographer, Olivia kindly responded, but inwardly resenting their timing. It was after work and she needed to leave.

She didn't care to mingle with her co-workers. It just wasn't her style to make buddies with fellow dancers. Especially after her best friends Danielle and Abigail moved away to Austin and Los Angeles, respectively. It wasn't their fault, but Olivia resented them leaving and her heart was broken. Then it became her motto that if she didn't get close, she wouldn't get disappointed.

That was the thing about Olivia; no one else was allowed to be in her world. When it came to her work, the craft she spent of her life perfecting, it was all about her. No one was going to question her goals or interrupt her from reaching them.

 _I am a diva._

As if someone read her thoughts, people started to leave. Olivia smiled to herself, quite pleased by the mass exit. Packing her belongings, then switching her jazz shoes for pair of worn and comfortable Keds. She checked her phone; her brother sent her a short agenda of the evening they planned together.

Boisterous laughter distracted her from responding; it was coming from across the room. Stephen was talking to someone she had never seen before.

The man appeared to be a foot taller than her petite frame. Casually dressed in jeans and some nondescript solid colored t-shirt that was a little too tight, expressing himself through lavish hand gestures. Some of the annoying dancers raced over to him, excitedly saying "hi", and rushing to take selfies. With the fanfare, he could have been some hot-shot socialite's son or up-and-coming business owner. In New York, that wouldn't have been a far cry from the truth.

Stephen laughed or commented loudly as each interaction occurred. He and the stranger glanced in Olivia's direction, several times, which made her a bit uncomfortable.

"Liv," he called out. "Can you come over here, please?"

Rolling her eyes, but never wanting to disappoint, she sauntered over.

"Yes?"

"I want you to meet Fitz. He's going to be in the music video I'm directing. The new single from LaToia Carlisle? We had been going over things and I think you two would be a great combo for this concept."

Crossing her arms, eyeing the man suspiciously, Olivia was already over this staged conversation. A bubble bath and a large glass of wine was calling her name.

Fitz extended his hand, "Hi, Olivia. Nice to meet you."

"Hello."

Stephen proudly stated, "Fitz is an actor from L.A. I know you've seen his work. _A Bridge Between Us_ , _Tantalize._

Twisting her lips, Olivia shrugged with a hint of boredom. "Probably. They don't ring a bell." Her quick response surprised Stephen. He raised his eyebrow, sending a wordless correction.

Fitz began to chuckle at the two in front of him. "Don't worry. I don't expect anyone to keep track of my credits. Trust me, if we work together, I won't make you look bad."

"You won't."

She refused to smile, but he did.

"Have you been in music videos before? I haven't."

"Yes, but I'm picky."

 _I am a bitch, baby._

The irritation was clearly expressed on Stephen's face. Not able to make Olivia adjust her attitude, he joked, "Don't mind her. She's very particular."

"I have my reasons," Olivia interrupted, never wanting to be overlooked. "I won't take any gig."

Fitz rubbed his stubbly chin, in deference. "As well as you shouldn't. By the way, I've heard great things about you. I think we would have lots of fun."

That was the problem. Olivia didn't believe in having fun while working.

Stephen added, "Shooting will take place here in the city, possibly in New Jersey. LaToia wants everything done by August, so it will work in your schedules."

"I'll have to talk to my agent," she spoke without hestitation.

"That's a great start."

Olivia squinted her eyes at Fitz's enthusiastic reply. She wasn't sure if he was trying to suck up to Stephen or herself.

Having worked together for the past three months on dance concerts and musical revues, Stephen immediately caught on to all the signs of her impending shutdown. He also wanted to stay on her good side, so he coughed loudly to break up the tension.

"Well, I know you're itching to start your weekend, so we'll let you go."

Olivia didn't want to consider this. Her big break hadn't come yet. This project could be something, but she doubted being second fiddle to a Hollywood actor would help her cause. Fitz probably didn't even know who she was.

Before she walked away, Stephen leaned in, whispering. "Think about it, okay? I wouldn't tell you about this if I didn't think you could kick ass."

"Alright," I sighed.

Fitz waved. "Nice to meet you, Olivia. It was a pleasure. Hope to see you soon."

She released a superficial smile and turned to leave. The duffel bag hitting her side slowly as she trudged down the steps. The conversation made her think.

 _I know what I want. No, really. I know what I want._

Olivia needed to be more than being in the background. It had been five years, taking more classes, getting cast in ensemble roles in jazz dance ensembles, which led to background dancer gigs in small concerts by up and coming pop and alt-soul artists. But maybe with enough incentive, she would take on this project. As long as it didn't ruin her chances for the big tour she was eyeing on.

* * *

New York City was treating her well. Right before Christmas, Olivia was able to find an apartment, being able to secure a lease for six months. After the girls moved, her rent skyrockted and she couldn't stay in the decent spot they were at. Spending the night on couches, renting a hotel room outside the city, which affected her commutes drastically, was becoming a pain in the ass. The new place was alright; it didn't seem like the right fit for her, but with the flexible schedule she was trying to keep, always prepared to take a flight or bus out of town whenever called, she chose to deal with it. She never liked staying in one spot.

It had been so long she since felt like any town was home. When her family decided to leave the overcrowded suburbs of Washington, D.C.., she and her brother grew up in a small town outside of the beaches of Delaware. Everyone questioned the Popes' game plan. It was cute, but she had to leave as soon as possible. The area was saturated with tourists between April and October, not exactly a place to flourish and build a successful performing career. Unless she truly considered plans to include selling popcorn on the boardwalk or sitting at a pizza joint off of Route 1.

As soon as she graduated from high school, Olivia took her savings, two bags full of clothes, and moved on, setting her vision on New York. The path was harder than she thought. For a while, she didn't get any work. But after making a few connections and being at the right place, at the right time, Olivia was finally getting work. Booking gigs for music videos, performing at concerts, and a few commercials that required some dance background. She enjoyed being constantly on the go and doing her own thing. The endgame - being the next big thing.

Harrison, her younger brother by 18 months, traveled with Olivia whenever he could. Since he was a good influence and knew how to keep her calm during stressful audition season, she bribed him with gifts and other things to get him here in the city. She worked extremely hard to find a place for them to live.

They were extremely close; to the point that she hired him to be my assistant or "babysitter". He always knew where she needed to be, advised her on the jobs she needed to take. He kept track of her because from past experience, it was easy to get out of hand and allow life to get the best of her. Harri - his childhood nickname - was the only constant in her life.

Olivia was walking out of the dance studio, ready to weave through the crowds of foot traffic, when she received a text from him.

 _I bet you're tired. Let's go out and have a drink._

Rolling her eyes at the thought of dealing with his crazy buddies, her thumbs moved at lighting speed.

 _No thanks. How about we stay at home?_

Olivia made it around the block, when Harrison's response came in.

 _My friends will be there and I want to hang out, so unless you want to sulk at home, come with._

 _Fine._

Her brother knew what he was talking. Nine of ten times, whenever they went out, Olivia made a connection. Her next big break could greet her at the door.

* * *

The club, or whatever Harrison called it, was very interesting. Low lights. A disco ball. Lots of people in their age bracket, dancing, and drinking. The music was very crappy, but the drinks were at a great price. It couldn't always be perfect.

Olivia and Harrison sat at the bar, along with his buddies from work. After a quick rundown of the rehearsal and a shower, Olivia changed into a halter top and jeans, and pulling her hair into a high ponytail. Nothing fancy, but still memorable, just in case a talent agent or a friend of a friend was in attendance.

Which led her to her regular hobby whenever she was out on the town, or playing wingman to her brother. People-watching. So-called hipsters. Some were dressed to the nine's. There were some attractive guys around, but per usual, they were attached to someone else. As she drank from her bottle of water, her eyes ventured to a particular section in the corner. The group looked like tourists, or folks who clearly didn't frequent the spot. The tall one piqued her interest. White dress shirt, sleeves rolled up. Full head of hair. Moving around to the rhythm. Surrounded by a few ladies. Another life of the party-type. Then, he turned around.

"Oh no," she groaned, immediately shifting her body towards her brother. "You have got to be shitting me."

Harrison leaned over quickly, ready to protect. "What is it?"

Olivia used her hand to shield her eyes, replied in a low register. "That's the guy Stephen wants me to work with. I don't like him."

"What? How is that possible? You just met him."

"He's going to outshine me. I just know it," she sulked. "He's an actor. A fucking popular actor. Probably will charm the pants off of everyone on crew. I want to be the lead, not him."

Harrison replied by chuckling. "Well, until that is confirmed when you begin filming, _if_ you say yes, keep your head down. Pull out your phone or talk to other people so he won't bother you. I mean, he's famous, and he's all the way over there, so why would he even talk to you?"

Sucking her teeth by Harrison's snarky but truthful comments, Olivia ordered a martini. Immediately, she began to imagine herself on stage with her favorite singers and popstars. Being their main squeeze. Her goal was to be someone's go-to, number one stage companion. Being the ultimate muse, bringing the artist's vision or lyrics to life through movement…

But the blissful moment ended, when she felt someone nearby.

"Hey!"

Olivia jumped at the touch of the stranger's hand on her shoulder blade, receiving a nasal attack of cologne. It was him. Fitz. How she didn't realize that he gotten so close to her, she would never know. Apparently, the heightened sense of awareness that was embedded in her psyche as a dancer, took a nosedive.

"May I help you?"

"Yeah," he chuckled, amused by her harsh inquiry. "I happened to see you here by yourself and I wanted to catch up, see how you were doing." His eyes were bright with desire; she was about to shut that down.

"I'm here on purpose and I'm fine. Sounds good?"

His lips formed the shape of a small "O", an automatic reaction to her dig.

"Hard to catch, yeah?"

"I suppose."

Olivia waved to the bartender, asking for a glass of wine. Fitz nudged the side of her arm with his elbow. His blue eyes glowed as he continued to butter her up.

"I know this afternoon was a bit rocky. But I know who you are. I think you are incredibly talented. I've met several dancers in the past, and no one has _it_ like you do."

"Mmhmm."

"You've heard all of that before, I get it. I already know you probably don't like sharing the spotlight with anyone, especially someone like me, but I would be honored if we were able to work together."

Olivia sucked in a breath, before easing back into the rich blend of red she was given. Something was different or off. She felt his eyes on her, even when he was supposed to focus on the drink of whatever alcohol he ordered. He wasn't backing down when she blatantly shrugged him off countless times - at the studio and at the bar. He appeared to be extremely confident. He wanted something, but she knew how actors could be. She wasn't about to give in to his silly game.

The DJ began to spin a top 40 jam.

"Care to dance?"

"Hell no," Olivia exclaimed, shaking her head. "I have been on my feet for six hours straight and that's a light day. I'm not wasting my energy for some social moving around, just for the heck of it. But you go ahead."

Fitz's eyebrows rose in disbelief, but he continued. "Only trying to make light conversation."

She knew he was trying too hard to win her over. His attempts at flirting were borderline annoying, but she did appreciate his company, so she threw him a bone. "What brings you to NYC?"

"Work. I go where there's opportunity."

"A music video?"

Fitz thanked the bartender, before continuing. "It's something different. When you're on a soundstage for 12-18 hours a day, going through the motions, there's always a desire to find something to break the monotony. Plus, I adore LaToia's sound. Her previous videos have been fun and provocative. When my agent called, I couldn't say no."

Olivia tapped her fingers on the counter, reviewing the spoken information. It sounded believable, but anyone in the arts had a way of building up a lackluster story into something more attractive.

"You talk a lot."

"And you haven't said much of anything," he teased.

Finally, after getting her fill of the ambiance, Olivia slightly turned to face Fitz - the corner of her lips rose into a rare smile, which prompted him to mirror her expression.

"You gotta earn that honor, buckaroo."

* * *

More to come soon. I know some of you are waiting for _The Look_. Don't worry...it will be here before you know it. _xo_


	2. Chapter 2

Routines were her bread and butter. The clock didn't have to remind her about what to do and when to do it. She was conditioned to live, breathe, and sleep dance. Everything in its rightful place, at the correct time. It was Biblical — " A time to dance…" The moment to dance was always present.

Of course, her body didn't fail her. Every morning, at 8:03, her eyes would open, slowly preparing to start the day, which usually included several hours of dancing, a little bit of emailing, and the rest of the day networking or "resting". No matter where she was, this was her life. And she wouldn't have it any other way.

But her head felt so fucking heavy when she tried to lift herself up. Extremely groggy, Olivia gathered her bearings.

Wait.

The mattress was too firm. The walls were not bright enough. Sunlight wasn't boring into her face. She was in a bed that clearly was not her own. That sense of knowing she wasn't alone was terrifying, so Olivia shifted her body over at a glacial pace to the other side, to hopefully disregard any assumptions.

 _It's him. Shit._

"Hey, beautiful."

Her eyes finally adjusted to find her companion from the night before, lying beside her. But to her surprise, his face was getting closer; his lips touching her cheek.

"What the hell?" Olivia muttered, wiggling against the confining sheets. Did they hook up? Did she meet this man not even 24 hours earlier, and then they were in the same bed? At this point, she wasn't going to find out. She had to leave.

"Wait, don't go," he touched her wrist delicately. "We had such a great time last night."

"I don't know about that. I don't remember much. I must have been drunk."

"So was I."

Olivia's body stiffened and her eyes grew wide, shifting between the bed and the floor, where clothes had been tossed around.

"Did we?"

"No, we did not."

Sighing deeply, Olivia was relieved that the combination of liquor and lust didn't make too much of a fuzzy recollection the morning after.

"But, I do remember you screaming after I— "

They did do something. More than something. For a split second, she recalled his head between her legs. Touching her like no one else, making her fall, just the way she liked.

Olivia covered her face, in total e mbarrassment, while Fitz softly chuckled. Fucking and ducking was her go-to. It didn't happen often. Olivia didn't make time for relationships or spur-of-the-moment hookups, but she knew when the right connection was made — either emotional or physical — with a man who was highly attractive and had a snark level she was turned on by, she would forgo logic.

"I'm sorry. Let me get you some breakfast," he replied, reaching over to the hotel phone. His lower back and behind became exposed from his side of the sheets slipping off. Ugggh, that firm ass felt so good holding to... _Shit_. Olivia was beginning to remember more of the activities from that night. Giggling over the lame jokes at the bar, whispering in his ear. A small kiss here. A nuzzle there. Then, asking him if they could go somewhere...

"I should go."

"Wait, Olivia."

Squeezing her eyes shut, she thought about how he said her name. His voice was husky, in that special way the morning creates. It had a beautiful ring in her ears. But that was the last thing she wanted to fantasize at that moment.

"What?"

"Don't go."

"Fitz."

"Wow, it's been 24 hours and this is the first time you've said my name. I'm impressed." His blue eyes were friendly and a crooked smile appeared. Olivia didn't want to hear him getting all sappy. It wasn't what she was used to, while being with someone for the first time.

"Why are you doing this? You don't owe me anything."

Another light chuckle escaped from his mouth. "Oh, c'mon. I wouldn't kick you out. That's not who I am. Let me take care of you. Please? Just a bite to eat."

Olivia conceded, allowing him to have his way and stayed for breakfast. While she waited, she rested, snuggling the covers. He smiled as he set the tray over her lap. Olivia quietly worked on a short stack of pancakes, while he chomped on a massive omelet. They didn't speak, and Olivia wasn't going to indulge. She didn't want friendly banter, but it was nice to feel his touch.

"Are you alright?"

She nodded, without looking back at him. If she gazed into his soulful eyes, she'd be a goner.

When he finally left for the shower, Olivia fumbled out of bed, searched for her phone, and thought of a plan to escape. What he wouldn't know, wouldn't hurt him. Numbers hadn't been exchanged and there were no attachments so there would be no way he could find her. At least for now. That's if she didn't accept the job offer.

"Harrison."

"Good morning."

"Harrison," she repeated his name with urgency.

"Yeah, sis?"

"Hurry up and get me."

"Why?"

"Because," she whispered, "I gotta go."

"You didn't seem that way when you bitched me out when I tried to detach you from that Grant fellow. Y'all were sucking face like none other."

The honest truth was a hell of a stinger. Olivia couldn't stand it when her brother would was right. But he always looking out for her well-being. That was fine and dandy, but Olivia didn't call for a guilt trip and a "told-you-so" lecture.

"I need a favor," she tip-toed find her pants, shoes, and anything else that was hers in the spacious room. "I need you to come to the hotel so I can go. I can't stay here."

"Why not? You were having fun. Probably the first time in a long time that I've seen you look extremely happy, outside of dancing. You don't have to be anywhere until 1, so enjoy yourself."

"What are you talking about?"

"There's nothing wrong with having a good time."

Olivia sucked her teeth, "Are you serious? You are not listening to me. I need you to meet me downstairs."

"Uh, yeah, I am, and don't you dare shut me out. Don't tell me that you hated being with him."

Stammering through words that were extremely foreign, Olivia replied, "I can't be bogged down by a quick emotional attachment, or a…relationship."

Harrison taunted melodically. "You said a bad word...ha-ha-ha-ha-ha."

"Fuck you. You know what, forget I even asked."

"Sis, you put up a good front, but you know I'll be there."

Olivia decided to send Harrison the address of the coffee shop they liked to visit, before redressing. It was a walk of shame, but she didn't have time to fuss over her appearance. Scribbling a note on the bed, Olivia gave Fitz her best regards and made a beeline for outside. In a three minute span, she scurried down the stairs and hailed a cab. Smoothing down her hair, re-applying some mascara, then gargling mouthwash, she made herself presentable, feeling like Holly Golightly on the way to the airport.

Harrison was standing in front of the coffee shop as the cab pulled up. Handing the driver a wad of cash, she said, "Please keep the change."

He gave her the familiar look of judgment she knew about whenever she was doing something sketchy.

"Seriously, sister?"

A purse of the lips, with a firm middle finger being lifted sharply, Olivia adjusted her large sunglasses, letting it be known that she was not the one.

"Do. Not."

They found a table after ordering their drinks. Harrison preferred a dark roast with cream; her go-to was a personalized latte. It became a game when they would give the barista each other's orders. The cafe's owner knew them well so depending on the day, they would receive their coffee for free. It was nice to go to places where people knew who you are, and reap the benefits.

"Did you enjoy yourself," Harrison inquired, blowing off steam from his cup.

"I don't want to talk about it."

Olivia fiddled with her sunglasses, not knowing what to think. Only met this man yesterday. He pretty much wooed me at the bar, made her feel amazing, and made sure she slept well and ate. And still, she ran off. Of all the people to hook up with...it's the guy she loathed, from the moment she laid eyes on him at the studio.

"What's going on next week?"

Harrison sighed, catching her drift. He pulled out his iPad and gave an itinerary for Monday's rehearsal. All before they were rudely interrupted.

"Olivia Pope?"

"Yes," she casually replied, not even bothering to make eye contact. Everyone knew who she was., no need to talk to the neighborhood "littles." Plus, she was in last night's outfit. Not an ideal situation to be getting recognized.

"You left this."

The smirk on Olivia's face vanished when she realized who the voice's owner was and what he brought.

Her phone.

"Oh. What an idiot I am."

He nodded and moved awfully close to her ear. Too damn close. "I took the liberty to save my number in your contacts and yours' is in mine. Payback. For ditching me."

Olivia slowly nodded in gratitude, but not before she saw her brother shaking his head in amusement, and then rising from his seat, hand extended. She shot a dirty look, silently forbidding him to continue his scheme, but to no avail.

"Harrison."

"Fitz."

"Excuse my manners, but your last name is Grant, right?"

Fitz smiled at the recognition. "That's me. Nice to meet you, Harrison."

"How did you know where I was?" Olivia interrupted, figuring out Fitz's detective work. Then it came to her. "You son of a biscuit-eating bulldog. You read my texts?"

Fitz's eyebrows rose. "No. But I called the last number to make sure it was your phone."

Her eyes squinted in rage at her brother. He playfully shrugged his shoulders, very amused by her major fail.

"What was I supposed to do? Let you not have your phone? I thought it was you calling me!"

"May I join you?"

Harrison and Olivia responded at the same time.

"Yes!"

"Absolutely not."

Frowning at each other, quickly communicating with wiggling eyebrows, they were stuck.

"Come sit, buddy."

Olivia sipped on her coffee, which now tasted extremely bitter, as she revised her getaway plans.

* * *

"Did you decide?"

"I guess."

"I knew you would!"

Another day at the dance studio, trying to get her life in order. After the cell-phone/morning after ordeal, Olivia was very hesitant to accept any more social invitations. She had a job to do: kick ass at rehearsals and future auditions and make it big in this industry.

Stephen found out (probably through Harrison) that she was upstairs, and he surrounded me with rapid questions about the music video. She hadn't made a firm decision about anything, but several days had passed since she was asked on-the-spot.

As soon as she saw him bolt through the doors, Olivia knew he wanted to know. When he heard the answer, Stephen extended his arm and waited for her to slap him five. She released a half-ass "woohoo" in return. Stephen jabbed her shoulder, laughing at her dull response.

"C'mon, it will be great. Everyone was counting on you to be in this video. The newest It Girl on the East Coast, being seen nationwide? Its stock will rise tremendously."

Olivia's eyebrows furrowed at the thought of the bullshit Stephen was spewing out of his mouth. How would he know that the addition would create so much buzz for a video?

"Oh, seriously? The music video will be popular because of an unknown dancer and not because of him," she smugly inquired, dropping her bag on the ground.

Stephen talked a big game, and as much as she wanted to feed into the hype, and revel in the potential of becoming a star, Olivia had to consider all of her options. To notice if she being told lies in order to feel better and jump in head first, and then get screwed over. Either financially or physically. That already happened and she was not going to let it repeat.

She lifted her foot off the ground, pushing her calloused ball down, stretching her tendons, while waiting for his answer.

"Olivia, don't do that. I thought of you first. I could care less if Fitz was involved. This is your chance to make it huge. Do you know how hard you've been working for this? It would be in your best interest to take this opportunity. Who knows where this will take you? Justin. Gaga. Demi. The best of the best. I heard Janet is going back on tour. Hell, the possibilities are endless! Think of it as Fitz supporting your campaign."

Inwardly, Olivia wanted to throw so many profanities at Stephen and call him a phony. She knew better than to receive this crap. But, some press is better than no press. It was her desire to be seen by anyone who could help my further my career. It just wasn't what she wanted to do.

"Have you seen Fitz since I introduced you two?"

Her stomach flipped, only having a few seconds to decide whether to lie or not.

"Once. Harrison and I went to get coffee and he just showed up out of nowhere, and had the audacity to sit with us."

Stephen chuckled while shaking his head. "Really? Fitz told me a different story...but whatever."

Olivia's eyes widened with fear. He would snitch. She couldn't be surprised by anything that man does anymore. If he even mentioned anything that sounded like the truth, she would drop everything.

"Don't worry. Nothing crazy. I'll leave you be. I need you to get excited," Stephen shouted, walking backwards, pointing at her. Olivia waved him off.

When the door slammed, she returned to the task at hand. Sliding into a chassé towards the stereo, she plugged in the iPod Olivia searched for an appropriate song to use for this audition she had in the afternoon. After setting everything up, she slipped off her sweats, revealing a cut-up t-shirt, blue leotard, and black dance shorts. She needed to embrace the exclusive time to herself.

The floor was cold to the touch. It didn't matter because she loved moving barefoot. Olivia was trained in ballet - ten years being in the studio four-six days in the week, hair pulled into tight buns, pink tights, black leotards, and leather slippers that transformed into beautiful pointe shoes. But once the chance was given, she gravitated towards jazz and contemporary. The training was exceptional and she did not regret all the time put in, but she found it freeing to do other techniques. She craved the passion in a choreographed piece. Contractions and extensions. Curving her body forward and backwards to form new shapes. Articulating her feet. Pouring whatever emotion she was experiencing into something I could create.

After a deep plié, Olivia launched herself into a weighted firebird jump. As she arched back, her right leg sharply swung behind her. Landing only to rebound into a lunge and inside double pirouette. Several combinations later, the music succinctly ended as she slid her leg in and brought my foot into a bevel, creating a solid pose to finish the combination.

Her breath slowed down, feeling satisfied with her work, when her ears perked to the sound of hands clapping.

"You are such a beautiful dancer."

Olivia's heart stopped, gasping, and whipped her body around. Fitz was leaning against the wall, presumably waiting for her to stop so he could officially barge into her world. His eyes shone with enthusiasm and she didn't know whether to blush, scream, or ignore his intense stare.

"What are you doing here? I didn't hear the door," she asked, exhaling heavily.

Fitz replied as he respectfully advanced to the center of the room. "Stephen told me to come and meet him. I got here a few minutes early. Sorry for startling you."

Olivia wiped her forehead with a towel. "It's alright. I don't know why I bother to think I can ever be alone when I dance."

A minute of silence elapsed with me trying very hard not to hiss at him or plan some type of abrupt exit.

"So," Fitz started, "How long have you been dancing?"

"How long have you been nosy," she replied, with a smirk.

Fitz stuck his hands in his pockets, rocking on his heels, with a shocked look on his face. "Woo, sass! You got me there. Sorry for prying, Olivia Pope."

Olivia felt a little uneasy for snapping at him. Probably didn't mean any harm and still, she wasn't sure why he was here, talking to her. About what she loved. Shrugging her shoulders and waving off his apology, she relented. "Sorry. Since I was 3. So…26 years."

"That's amazing." Fitz's reply surprised her even more. That same enthusiasm she heard on Friday. She couldn't tell if he meant it or not. Olivia dropped the towel into bag, nodding to quicken our conversation.

"Yeah. Long time."

"Teach me a step or two," he asked, attempting to make puppy-eyes. Sounded like a way to please and say anything that would get him on someone's good side. In this case, Olivia's side.

"Are you actually dancing in the video?"

"I think so at some point. I haven't heard much but I would assume"

Olivia stared at Fitz incredulously. His body shape — tall, with a broad set of shoulders and thicker thighs — didn't register as a "nimble mover". Maybe a casual athlete with a history of some agility. Was she really about to waste her time with this actor who was hired for mass appeal and consumption?

Fitz began to step-touch, bobbing his head and moving his hips in an erratic way. "I have rhythm, you know."

She wasn't ready for this lame attempt at flirting or whatever this was. Everything he said made no sense and she didn't care for it. He was in her territory now.

After seeing her lips curl in annoyance, Fitz chuckled, "You're not impressed. I'll prove you wrong, Miss Pope."

"Okay," she replied with no enthusiasm. There was no reason to play head games any longer; she mentally checked out to sharpen a leg extension; one that she needed to perfect for the show.

"Whoa, that was high!"

Olivia didn't bother to respond, but was glad to know he thought her less-than-stellar kick was praiseworthy. She continued to practice, starting with a small flick called a dégagé to the back, and lifting it higher into to a ponché. Looking over her shoulder, she witnessed Fitz blowing out a harsh breath and then crazily fling his leg in a weird fashion. Almost like a karate chop, not a graceful grand battément.

"What the hell," she exclaimed, half-amused, half-horrified.

"Gotta get to your level." He winked before running to the barré.

The last thing Olivia wanted was Fitz to be acting extra silly on her behalf. She couldn't let him act a fool in her sanctuary and defile the space she hold so dear. Not on her watch.

"Fitz, come here. Stand next to me."

When he returned to where she was standing, Olivia placed her hands on her hips and looked him straight in the eye. There was about a seven-inch difference between them, but she wasn't going to her size take away from what she wanted to say.

"What do you want to learn?"

"How to dance with you."

It was an odd request but Fitz had this sincerity in his eyes. Olivia didn't want to immediately shut him down, but she was the last person to be assigned as Fitz's dance partner.

"Why? I'm not easy to work with. You'd get tired of me so fast."

Lifting his shoulders slightly and grinning, Fitz answered, "Because I want to. I think I can manage. And no, I won't."

Not knowing what to do with this admission, Olivia racked her brain for something to do. A move that wouldn't be too difficult, but still impress and throw him a bone. She couldn't disappoint him, right?

"Grab my waist."

"Huh?"

Letting out a short grunt, Olivia repeated, "Grab my waist." It wasn't bizarre to have a secure pair of hands on her body, or get offended with being touched by strangers in the name of dance. "Just put your hands here."

Fitz gingerly placed his hands around her. A bolt of nervous energy ran through and caught Olivia off guard. It immediately reminded her how he caressed her in bed a week before.

"Relax," she instructed. Not only to Fitz, but relaying the information to herself.

He cleared his throat. "Okay..."

"I'm going to plié and you will need to plié with me."

The silence prompted an explanation. Olivia suddenly remembered he wouldn't have known any of those phrases. She was never a teacher, but she recalled how her instructors would guide her — training, going slow but this time, with no condemnation.

"Bend your knees."

"Oh yeah," Fitz muttered, along with "plié, plié".

He was trying and Olivia was pleasantly surprised by his new commitment.

"Then," she continued, "You're going to lift me, push me up so your arms are wrapped around my legs, and turn at the same time. I'll use my weight to keep steady. I wouldn't let you get hurt."

This lift was a basic partner move, something that anyone who was stronger than she was could accomplish. Fitz had a great upper body and strong legs; it wouldn't be an issue to hold her.

"Okay, are you ready?"

Having her eyes set on the mirror, Olivia watched Fitz nervously nod, his head resembling a Bobblehead.

"I'll count to three, and then we'll do this."

Feeling Fitz's fingers press into her sides, she began to count.

"One. Two. Three!"

Fitz grunted as he lifted her off the ground. A quick shift of weight brought her higher, as his arms gripped her thighs.

"Turn slowly, if you like," she instructed, watching themselves as the rotation occurred. By the feel of his stronghold, Fitz was obviously scared to drop her or whatever; she could feel it. But she pulled herself up through her abs, and let him take control.

"Alright."

After ten seconds, they came to a stop. Fitz cautiously released her, as she slid down. when she turned to face him.

"Wow."

"Yeah. Want to try it again?"

Fitz's cheeks rose while he beamed. "Yes, please!"

They added a small partner combination before the lift, and repeated two more times. Olivia curled herself in his embrace. The connection felt better each time. While she gave instructions, watching him take correction extremely well, was encouraging for Olivia. If they were going to work together, they might as well feel comfortable with each other.

His hand caressed the small of her back for support as she leaned back into a layout, as he lunged forward. Their faces were becoming dangerously close. Olivia could smell the cinnamon mint he probably was chomping on, before he walked into the studio.

"Look at you," she softly purred. Her eyelids lowered as she studied every one of Fitz's expressions, while her leg was still in the air "You're becoming a pro." She had to admit, there was a sexiness about him that was very appealing. Whenever he licked his lips, in concentration or maybe who knows, lust, that made her weak in the knees. Somehow he broke through her tough demeanor, and allowed her to relax around him.

Fitz hummed before replying, "I told you I'd prove it to you." Before she could find a smart-ass comeback, Fitz snuck in a kiss that was absolutely delectable. She let out a heavy sigh and snaked her fingers through his soft brown hair, which curled at the ends. The muscles in her foot were becoming too tight, and she felt as if she would cramp at any minute.

Without hesitation, she opened her mouth slightly and reached for his tongue. Fitz didn't draw back either; he grabbed the side of her hip and brought me closer, letting her center graze against his growing member.

"Hey, Liv, I wanted to show you- Whoa!"

Everything went haywire at the sound of Stephen's voice. Of all the people to catch her in a compromising position, it would be her director. Immediately detaching herself out of Fitz's arms, thrashing about, Olivia almost fell down. Her skills were to thank for breaking free without dropping to the ground and landing her in an emergency room.

"Hey, Stephen."

Their eyes met; in his excitement, Stephen greeted with a raised eyebrow and classic knowing smirk. Olivia watched his eyes survey towards her swollen lips, then following to Fitz's hands, which were casually covering the front of his pants. The level of embarrassment went through the roof, since the countless times of Stephen finding Olivia in less than savory situations, making it difficult for herself, once again.

"What's up?"

Stephen cleared his throat. "I'm so glad both of you are here. I spoke with the producers; they made an agreement with the choreographer, so we are meeting at BDC tomorrow morning at 11. Does that sound good?"

"For what," Fitz asked.

Olivia rolled her eyes; his naïveté was a killjoy. Couldn't he be sexy and not ask such random questions?

"Rehearsal."

"Ok, sounds great," Fitz replied. He shifted his eyes towards Olivia, looking for a reaction. Still feeling the rush of blood on her cheeks, she began to distract herself by drawing small rond de jambés, with my big toe on the floor, like forming circles in the sand.

"Mmhmm. Great."

Fitz must have seen her face become stoic, transitioning from flexible to difficult.

"Hey, Olivia was showing me a few moves that we might be able to use in the video."

Stephen refrained from bursting into laughter. "I bet she was. You appeared to be enjoying her instruction, Fitz."

The double entendres were not lost on Olivia. "Seriously? Fuck you." he retorted, lifting her arms in annoyance, turning around.

"Not my fault I walked in on a _private_ lesson."

"Keep that going, dude, and you'll be searching for a new dancer," Olivia sassed, retrieving her sweats. The teasing had to stop, especially in front of a potential co-worker.

"Forgive me, Liv. I know you are always quick to call me on my shit." Stephen crossed over, placing his hands on her shoulders. "I'm sorry. I went too far and that was unacceptable."

Olivia sighed, rolling her eyes. "I need to prepare for my audition, so if you need me, call Harrison. Y'all can joke all you want on your time. I'll see you all later."

"May I join you," Fitz interjected, throwing her off-balance.

"What? Why? Auditions are closed."

There was numerous reasons why a stranger couldn't tag along to an audition. Especially him. Distractions were not welcomed. Fitz Grant was now a huge distraction. Mentally, emotionally, and physically. It was only their fourth encounter and already, Olivia had allowed him see past this diva façade she was good at keeping up.

Stephen commented, "Would it be alright for him to at least walk with you to the audition? I think it would be fun, Olivia. Then he can see how serious you are about your craft. To prepare for tomorrow?"

Behind his serious tone, she knew Stephen was attempting to create more of a connection between her and Fitz. If they were going to physically move together, they had to find some common ground beforehand. Hoping he didn't know about what really transpired between the two a week prior, Olivia determined to just give it a shot. The torture he was inflicting on Olivia must have been entertaining, but she wasn't about that kind of amusement.

"Fine," she huffed. Turning on her heel, staring at Fitz, "But as soon we get there, you can't talk to me. I need to focus."

He agreed silently, miming to zip his lips.

Routines, be damned.

* * *

 _Thanks for reading. xo_


	3. Chapter 3

The audition process was an honor and equally, a pain in the ass. It wasn't to be taken lightly, ever, unless the goal was to waste your own time and the time of others watching and judging. Not for the faint of heart, either. The soul of a dancer needed to be bold and resilient. The body trained to perfection, but also nimble enough to switch into another routine, at a director's whim. Every second mattered. One slip-up could decide your fate. A dancer could never think it's in the bag. It never is.

Olivia had prepared herself for these special occasions. The dance studio she attended was one of the only groups in the area to make an effort to attend competitions and conventions at least four times a year. Every other weekend, she found herself on a bus or minivan, traveling to a given venue. Going wherever they were invited, or accepted through applications. That meant participating in shitty community events, holiday performances. You named it, she was involved. Tacky neon-colored costumes and all. Solo dances and routines were a rite of passage. Dedication would pay off if you did the work. Being at the studio every day after school. Weekends. Whenever. Olivia knew the level of sacrifice and commitment that had to be made. If her parents couldn't drive, she'd walk or take the bus. The same counted for the auditions and shows. Olivia always had an option.

Eventually, she became calloused to the rejection and back-ended compliments, but attempted to keep a level head when the accolades arrived. Dancing had become her air, her passion. Nothing else mattered. Olivia did not believe in limits when it came to securing performance opportunities. She had to be noticed. She wanted everyone to see her. There were dancers who looked like her, maybe have more or less technical experience, but she was different.

It was in her blood. Her parents wouldn't accept anything less. To win their approval, Olivia had to work her ass off to get what she wanted. The medals didn't count. When she finally moved away, the satisfaction returned. The memories of not seeing her name on the list continued to break her heart. Motivated, Olivia chose to see this failures as a chance to be seen and get remembered for the next time.

Thanks to Stephen's antics, she allowed Fitz to join her to the dance center. But one block into the trip, she kicked herself for agreeing. Feeling like an unsupervised child who needed a chaperone, Olivia stayed quiet during their walk. The hustle of the streets grew louder, with her annoyance equally rising, when he offered to carry her rather cumbersome bag, but she declined repeatedly.

"Olivia, c'mon. Let me. You need to save your energy."

Immediately frowning, she blew him off. "I got this, alright? I've been doing this for 15 years. Damn."

"Alright," he sharply stated.

Olivia paused; she realized that maybe that was a little too harsh. She noticed his lips were pressed together, as he walked forward with heavy footsteps. It wasn't until they stopped at a crosswalk when she faced him.

"Hey, I'm sorry. I'm used to do everything myself. I get very hesitant to receive help. But I'm trying to work on that. I shouldn't have snapped. Please forgive me."

Fitz's eyebrows rose, then he smirked. "Of course, Olivia. I couldn't hold anything against you."

Blurting out a snort, Olivia had to question herself. What in the hell was she doing? Was she softening up for this guy? She never got cozy emotionally with anyone this quickly.

 _Good Lord._

The light changed. Olivia pivoted and moved ahead of Fitz, along with the dozens of pedestrians. Three seconds later, he was walking by her side again.

"Are you free Saturday night?"

Without skipping a beat, Olivia revealed, "I have a musical revue this weekend."

"Okay, cool."

When it came to personal matters, she had no issue with telling people no. It was letting them down nicely that was Olivia's trouble spot. With her sights on a flourishing dance career, she preferred not to make things complicated by entertaining dates. It usually never worked out. After a good night out, a free meal, or even getting physical, Olivia chose to nip it in the bud, cutting ties with a rushed text message or simply ignoring the man's advances.

Fitz shifted the conversation. "What are your plans for the future?"

"Booking a national tour," Olivia checked her phone, "I've been hired at various places - and that's been great - but I would like to be the road for a consistent length of time. Traveling would be best. Then, I could enjoy what I do, support myself and make sure my brother is taken care of."

"Wow. I take it you like moving around."

"Yup. Never good to stay in one spot all the time. You get complacent. You of all people should know that. Always room to improve and grow."

Fitz quickly added, "Right." His eyes shifted to the pavement before saying, "I would love to see you perform."

Gripping her bag so tightly, Olivia looked straight ahead, avoiding his eyes. "Why?"

"Like I told you before," he sweetly replied, "I think you're beautiful, fascinating, and very talented. It would be fabulous to see you in action."

Olivia lowered her head, trying to hide the growing blush on her cheeks. "I suppose."

Before anything else escalated, they arrived at the building. Olivia glanced over the sheet Harrison gave to her in the morning. Second floor, room 10.

"Alright, let's get this over with."

Fitz asked, "Are you nervous?"

"Hell yes," she admitted. "I want to book this. No. I need to get this. This national tour would be the best job ever."

Two flights of stairs later, they stood at the door. It was an entryway that led to another door. The hallway was full of people, waiting and ready to audition. Olivia quickly surveyed the area: Twenty girls. Taller. Shorter. Bigger breasts. Slimmer thighs. Fuller hips. Straight hair. Very short hair. Lighter eyes. Darker complexion. Just from appearances, this competition pool was stiff. The notice asked for athletic dancers, 5'3-5'8" in height, with strong ballet and jazz technique, and move well in heels. The staff could pick anyone. She could be perfect for the gig in one regard, then get counted out in every other aspect.

"Name?"

Olivia blinked several times. Hiking the strap on her shoulder, she asked, "What? Excuse me?"

Fitz interjected. "Hi, her name is Olivia Pope and she is here to audition."

Equally dumbfounded and impressed that he would vouch for her while she exercised in her favorite hobby, sizing herself up to everyone. The man behind the makeshift desk, around their age bracket, scribbled a number of the form, and handed off a paper with the number "19".

"Fill this out, put the number on. Be ready in ten minutes."

"Thank you," Olivia answered, promptly leaving the registration table. An empty spot several feet away would suffice, enough space to focus, and still hear everything so she could be ready. Leaning against the wall, she completed the form, attached her resumé, and use her planner as a guide to mark down any conflicts she would have in the next six months.

"This looks more intense than the calls I went to," Fitz marveled. Olivia decided to ignore him, while applying a sensible hue of lipstick, keeping an eye on the competition. A few had extended their legs at a 180 degree stretch against the wall. Three ladies were marking their choreography with huge headphones on. One girl, who looked to be about 20 years old, shaking like a leaf. She remembered being that girl, incredibly scared in a new environment, hoping all of the training she received would bring her to the top. Those days are long gone.

"Yeah, we don't play."

Returning to her pre-audition rituals, Olivia closed her eyes, envisioning the combination repeatedly. Deep breaths helped; if she hyped herself up too much, she'd ruin her chance. Confidence was essential, but she couldn't bank on that. Her concentration broke when Fitz tried to whisper in her ear. He was too close and the sensation of his breath against her neck made her toes curl, setting her off.

"What the fuck? Stop."

Olivia flinched, taking a step away. She wasn't truly angry, but the flirting had to stop. She would deal with him later.

A slow crooked smile appeared, Fitz slipped his hands into his pockets, and leaned over to apologize. "I'm sorry. Just wanted to tell you I know you can do it."

"Oh." Once again, her paranoia about the day and her confused feelings about Fitz magnified her nerves. It was hard to channel her emotions. Returning to the paper, Olivia caught the last question, which drew her attention.

 _Are you available to travel non-stop for the next six months?_

Olivia twisted her lips as she pondered. Having lived exclusively the East coast, the thought of seeing the rest of the country enthralled her. She wanted this opportunity badly. Being stuck in one place was a nightmare; she needed change. Everything she told Fitz was accurate - the transition would be crucial for her and her dream. At the same time, if the change in location wasn't the right fit, it would crush all of her hopes.

"I'm so ready for this."

The sentence hit her ears harshly and caught her off-guard, making her freeze. To Olivia's left, a modelesque-looking girl, with golden skin and light green eyes, was discussing the potential job with a few other dancers. She appeared to be extremely confident in what she was doing.

"I heard they're only taking 10 girls and they need to be 5'6" or taller."

Only ten? She came here to win, not get cut in the first round.

Olivia discreetly swallowed the hard lump in her throat while removing her sweatpants. How could she train for years for this moment and hear rumors about getting dropped in the first round? If that happened, she would never be able to forgive her for failing.

Fitz's voice pushed through the dense fog of her anxious thoughts. "Hey, break a leg."

He gave the typical phrase of performing encouragement, and topped that by leaning forward to kiss Olivia on the cheek. Although it looked tacky to display such affection in front of these strangers, who came alone, she appreciated the gesture. His soft lips on her face did calm her down.

"Thank you."

To her surprise, Olivia's eyelashes fluttered when they made eye contact. Fitz grinned and brushed his thumb against the cheek he kissed. His attentiveness was uncanny; he knew exactly how to say the right thing at the right time. Olivia admired that about him, but it was scaring her on many different levels.

But the moment was short-lived. Locking eyes with three dancers who were snickering, Olivia's smile plummeted into a glare. One was pointing, mouthing a phrase to another, as they finished their warm-ups. By their expressions, she knew the conversation was snarky or downright rude.

"I have to go and get ready," she said, erratically pinning the number on her dance shorts. In no time, she was standing, bag at her side, ready to march into the studio.

Fitz's smile faded at the rush of her goodbye. "Oh, okay."

"You don't have to wait for me," she interrupted, using her hand as a barrier between them. "I don't know when I'll be done."

As Olivia left to return the completed form, the familiar voice resonated down the hall.

"I'll be right here when you finish!"

Fitz Grant, the supposedly famous actor from Los Angeles, was willing to stick around for a dance audition? Olivia was highly confused and needed her brother to investigate. There had to be a reason for all of this. They barely knew each other.

One of the stage managers announced. "Ladies, please enter. We will work on the individual auditions first."

Reviewing her ensemble of a halter leotard, bike shorts, and 3-inch character shoes, Olivia propped up the "girls", swinging her ponytail, pulled her shoulders back, and stood tall, proceeding to stand in line. Everyone had to take a back seat. It was her time to shine and she'd be damned if anyone viewed her as someone who couldn't take this opportunity seriously because of distractions.

The badass, formidable Olivia Pope was determined to show this panel who she was and what she had to offer.


	4. Chapter 4

The room was gorgeous and large, mirrors that reached to the ceiling, with ample space to dance around to one's satisfaction. It made her heart leap with joy. Being in a space that was immaculate, it reminded her why she chose this path in life. Every floor was different — but this studio used the perfect material. She wouldn't have to worry about shin splints or damaging her knees when she would have to plié after each jump. The rolls on the ground wouldn't feel as heavy. Gliding from one corner to the other wouldn't be an issue because there was enough grip against her character shoes.

As she tested the floor, pushing off her heels and rising on the balls of her feet, also known as a relevé, Olivia sighed deeply. She was in Heaven. If she ever made it — which she still knew that she would — she'd buy a house and the entire level would be a dance studio, with mirrors, barrés, and the perfect floor that enough spring. A stark difference from what she was used to as a child. The studios she was a member of, didn't always have the resources to provide to the students. Being in New York City, she was able to partake in better equipment. No more waiting or having to beg to coordinate schedules to secure time. She would have it all.

"Hi. Olivia, right?"

Always daydreaming and zoning off at the wrong time, she responded curtly without looking, "Yeah."

"You dance with Elevation? They're an amazing group."

"Yes."

A lady, probably a few years younger, cheerfully introduced herself. "Awesome. I'm Brenna. Break a leg."

Olivia mumbled, "Thanks."

Brenna snuck in the most random question, as they resumed their stretching and mental preparations, "Was that your boyfriend back there? He looked familiar."

Rolling her eyes, before slowly turning towards the girl, Olivia decided to be polite this time around. Whoever this Brenna was, her tone was not welcomed. Snarky and annoying. As far as she knew, they had never crossed paths before. Olivia began to observe this fellow dancer. "9" was plastered on her chest. Eyes sparkling with intrigue and a smile that reeked of "fake", plastered on her face. Blonde hair pulled back in a slick bun. She wore the typical sports bra/shorts combo. Something about her did not read "genuine". But honestly, when did any dancer who was serious about her or his craft, sacrifice their focus to chit chat. The competition was real.

Back to this girl — nothing but trouble. She probably knew who Fitz was, and wanted a juicy bit of gossip. Olivia mentally kicked herself, for letting Brenna's antics get into her psyche, distracting her from what she came to do. Answering with gritted teeth, she responded. "Nope. Just a friend. That's all."

But were they friends?

 _Who knows_ , she thought. _Anything to get her off my back._

The girl chuckled while crossing her arms. "Didn't seem like it. My non-dancer friends never join me at auditions or huddle up next to me like that and give me heart eyes. Plus, he looks like Fitz Grant, whom I adore. Kai and Bridgett, they noticed him too, but they were too scared to ask. That's great he came to support you. How long have you known each other? Does he know the artistic staff? Wouldn't that be cool if he got you a spot on the tour?"

That was it. No going back now. There was no way in hell that anyone, especially Fitz, would be lauded as the reason for her success.

"Listen," Olivia snarled, making a deliberate choice to lean in so this young lady could receive the final words of their short lived relationship. "I don't know who you are, don't know where you came from. Honestly, I don't care. But you don't know shit about me or who I do or do not talk to. So I would highly suggest that you mind your business, and don't ever talk to me again. Also, couldn't hurt to complete a few pirouettes before we start. Wouldn't want you to fall flat on your ass because you were too busy gawking at strangers. Fall back."

Brenna huffed. "You sure are defensive for being just friends. You literally have the worst attitude ever. Fuck you too."

"Attention, ladies!"

Olivia knew that it wasn't the wisest thing to do. It was immature, but it felt damn good. As she smirked while watching Brenna return to her corner, she focused on the director.

"Thank you all for joining us today. We will begin. Please form a line, in numerical order."

Olivia shifted into place. Usually, the groups were divided between 5-8 dancers. She was with four other ladies: Alondra, Quinn, Tai, and Heather. They seemed to be fine performers. Quinn was quite chatty, very happy to be a part of the process. They sat in a group, and watched individual auditions. Some were completely pointless. Olivia decided to stay on Karma's good side and not judge too harshly. She mainly focused on dancers who she could work well with. The chemistry would be seen.

"Number 19, we are ready for you."

With the music Harrison edited for her on a CD, Olivia walked to the front of the room. She smiled, handing the CD to the choreographer's assistant. It was a perfect cut; anything too long or too short would have her running out the door. The rules were so precise. Olivia couldn't risk it.

As she found her spot in the center, Olivia quickly nodded. Then, everything became a blur.

She moved like clockwork. Extending her arms and legs when at the exact time. Making contact with each judge at the table. Prepping in a deep fourth position, pirouetting several times in a row, like a music box ballerina. Ninety seconds later, Olivia halted with a strong pose - foot crossed over the other, right arm crossed over her chest.

The round of applause brought her back to life.

"Thank you, Olivia."

Letting out a sigh, she was content with what she performed to the panel during the solo. She felt good about the piece. It was a rare feat. In the past, when she had the opportunity to share her own choreography, it didn't always go well. But she worked overtime to perfect this form.

Olivia was able to relax for another thirty minutes, while the others auditioned and showed their original pieces. She noticed how different the ladies were; not that it was a bad thing. It was just intriguing to find time to observe, as objectively as possible.

After a five minutes water break, everyone was called to the floor for one more round of freestyle. It wasn't her strongest suit, but Olivia gave all she had. There was no room for error and anything less than perfection would be a major disappointment. Moving along with three other girls, they worked it out for 64 counts. It would show the judges that they could dance together.

That wasn't always a given; being an amazing dancer did not mean that he or she would be able to cooperate and work together with others. On the contrary, an ensemble member, always being in a group, did not translate into strong solo work. There always had to be a balance and no one could sit on her laurels.

"Thank you, ladies," the choreographer, Alyssa, commented. "We will be in touch!"

Olivia stepped back and clapped in appreciation. The other girls exchanged smiles, chatting it up, as the audition officially concluded. Just because the scenery changed, didn't mean that she had to. It wasn't in her nature to make friends. Be cordial? Of course. But she had to protect herself. At all costs. Back in the corner with her things, she drank water, redid her hair, pulling it into a low ponytail. Glancing at the others, she thought about how alone she was. The life of a professional dancer was never easy. Putting in all the hours, enduring pain, only to have fifteen minutes during the spotlight, if she was lucky.

Her mind was in a haze when she realized she had to get going. One of the last people to leave, Olivia thanked the panel once more, then walked out, leading to the hallway.

No sign of Fitz.

Taken aback, Olivia had to remind herself that she did tell him to scram.

 _So much for moral support_ , she thought.

She couldn't believe that she was crushed. But then again, she shouldn't have been surprised. No one else close to her, other than Harrison, had ever accompanied her to auditions. That was never her testimony.

"How was it?"

Her ears perked when she heard his voice.

"You stayed?"

"Yeah," he answered, taking a step towards her. "I had to use the restroom. Back to you. How was your audition?"

Without sounding too ecstatic, Olivia bent down to tie her shoes. "Fine. But strangely, I felt very good about it."

Fitz's blue eyes danced as he responded. "Awesome! I knew you could do it."

Shrugging, she said, "Yeah. I'm just glad it's done."

"I bet." Fitz grinned as he watched her rummage through her bag and re-pack.

Olivia faintly smiled, "You know, I appreciate you coming with me. I didn't think it would be that important but it did. That means a lot."

"No problem."

And with that, the two quietly left, making very light conversation. Once they entered the outside world, Fitz brushed his hand against her arm.

"Hey, it may seem weird, but let's get a celebratory drink or some food. My treat."

The wheels in her head began to turn again. She didn't want him to get any ideas. Just because he accompanied her for the afternoon, didn't mean anything. There was no obligation for this back and forth.

"I don't know." Olivia knew her face was showing her discomfort. All the years of having to be aware, it was easy to recognize the signs of tension.

"How about this," Fitz started, offering to take her bag; she let him. "Let's just chill at my place. I can order some dinner. The place I rented is not too far from here. Would you like to relax for a bit before you head out?"

Olivia looked him dead-on, studying his face. There was no malice in his voice, or an expression that could question his intentions. But, it would have been a downer if she rejected him again for the tenth time in a 12-hour span.

"You did appear to be my good luck charm," she hinted. "Okay. Sure."

Fitz winked and extended his hand - for her to hold. Olivia chose to accept, and instead of grasping palms, their fingers locked.

It made her smile.

As they walked along, Olivia realized why people were enamored with him. Persuasion was his strong suit, and she was falling. But maybe she had something that was pulling him towards her as well. It would be a fascinating ride.

* * *

 _Sorry that this was short. But an exciting new chapter is coming up next! xo_


	5. Chapter 5

_It's just you and I tonight_

 _Why don't you figure my heart out?_

 _\- The 1975_

* * *

"Would you like something to drink?"

"Water."

Fitz's eyebrows rose in disbelief after hearing Olivia's short response. "Really," he asked, opening the refrigerator, getting a better look at the selection he had. "I have beer, wine, bacon. I got ice cream. Ooh, I didn't realize I bought ginger ale. Whatever you want."

A smile formed as Olivia repeated slowly, "Water, please."

She observed the living room while he disappeared to his room. The layout was very simple. Not much going on. A dining table. The couch. Two suitcases against the wall. But that was a given since he was only supposed to be in New York for a month. He was only visiting.

A few minutes later, Fitz returned, with two glass, handing Olivia her water, before plopping down on the couch. "So…are you ready for tomorrow's first rehearsal? The reason why we actually know each other?"

Olivia's eyes widened, completely forgetting about the project. Her focus had been on the audition, she didn't have time to think about how they'd be working side by side for three days, maybe a whole week. "Yeah, sure" She watched his lips twitch into a smirk, giving a knowing smile.

His eyes were bright as he replied, "I get it. Your audition today was more important than the video. I'm chopped liver."

"Stop! I wasn't trying to slight you. But it was," she said, matter-of-factly, before taking a long sip. "This is my life. I want to be a professional dancer, who performs on huge stages, all around the world. A music video - that's something that can look nice now but age horribly if it's not a quality concept. Artists will always need a background dancer."

"Then why did you take on the job?"

Cocking her head slightly, Olivia replied, "I can't be excited about one thing and not the other?"

Fitz chuckled, running his fingers through his hair. "I didn't mean it like that. But are you in the least excited about doing something new?"

"A little. It's good to vary up my work flow. Stephen encouraged me that it would attract more people to me and my brand."

She didn't know if that was the whole truth, to be honest. Harrison and Stephen always were always convincing her to step out of her comfort zone, and view different projects a blessing and stepping stone. An appearance on a music video that could reach thousands did sound like a grand opportunity.

But she had turned down gigs because her gut — her inner self — did not vibe. Maybe _he_ was the reason for accepting this. This was the one thing she vowed never to do. Take on a job because of a man.

"Touché."

Fitz leaned into the couch cushions, stretching his legs. "What is it like? Incorporating dance into a video? How can people make everything look camera-ready? They look so intense." Due to the New York humidity, and constant rummaging with his fingers, his hair that had been so neatly pressed, had unraveled, into loose curls.

Olivia didn't understand why he needed to ask so many questions. Rolling her eyes, she explained, "The same way you include acting on film. There's planning. Precision. Chemistry, I honestly didn't know I became an encyclopedia."

"I stand corrected. Forgive me."

He had this charm and wit, as well as a level of snark that she wasn't able to resist. Was he trying to get on her nerves, knowing how direct and uptight she had become? She was always this way, but somehow while talking to him, off and on for the past week, Olivia had determined she was doing the absolute most.

"Ugh, fuckin' A, sorry. You keep throwing me off. I never feel bad when I correct people," she stammered, crossing her legs at the ankles. "What have you done?"

Fitz could not help but grin widely. "Ahh, yes. It's a gift of mine. I didn't mean to bombard you. I'm just excited about this. Doing this video with you."

"Why?"

"It's new. I like being challenged. Knowing I am not the lead and will follow someone else. Being that person's shadow, supporting — in this case — you, and taking my cues from you. That excites me."

Even in this abbreviated span of knowing him, Fitz always wanted to say something to make Olivia smile. Her track record of holding on to grudges was falling by the wayside. He wanted to work with her? After the cold start to this partnership?

"I just do what they tell me. Repeat when I'm supposed to, and that's it. I don't think about the overall stuff. Just the movement."

Fitz showed off his gorgeous smile again before drinking some of his water. "True. I'm so intrigued by the production side. I think I will get into that in a few years. Try to get my foot in the door. Always have to know which baskets to put your eggs in. "

"That's cool," Olivia nodded, placing her glass on some nondescript coaster. "You are a thinker. Directing could be a good fit for you, especially with your acting background. You would be able to connect with your performers."

"Thanks for the vote of confidence."

Nodding, Olivia looked around the room again. Trying to find any more clues about his personality, without actually asking. While he was a thinker and smooth talker, she was an observer.

"You seem to be a well-rounded kind of guy. I wasn't expecting that at all."

"Really," a surprised Fitz asked. "How so?"

Olivia quickly informed, "Because one, you're a hot actor. From California? Please. I've met my share of good-looking actors. They are assholes. Looks like you have it all. I thought you were doing this gig as a favor to someone."

"Well aren't you?"

"An asshole?"

Fitz's jaw dropped, before he scoffed, "Nooo... Aren't you doing this because Stephen begged you?"

Olivia pivoted to look at Fitz, tucking her right leg in. "Yes, but I told you what my motives are. But back to you, you seem to be different. I like that."

Her soft answered definitely put his mind at ease. His shoulders began to relax. Studying his face, Olivia was reminded of someone she could talk to without being judged or taken advantage of. Not like a therapist, but a very good friend.

"The audition. You want this gig, don't you?"

"Of course I do," she admitted, coming out of her trance. "It would make me very happy. If I got this job, I'd be able to be on the road for at least six months. I haven't left New York since I moved here, which kills me. I want to be happy doing what I love. Working hard for my accomplishments and reaping the benefits."

Fitz added another question — "What about your personal life? Family? A special someone? Do they make you happy? Is there more to life than dance?"

Olivia paused to evaluate, checking her tone, and waiting for the right beat to explain. "Harrison is my family. I will do everything in my power to make sure he is happy. When he's content, I'm content. And I don't know about men and relationships. I've gotten screwed more times than I should, so hopefully one day I'll find the right one. Who will love me for the way I am, and be patient while I get my shit together and become a better Olivia."

It definitely seemed weird to share personal information with a person she hadn't known for more than six months. Olivia took a breath, relieved that she could power through and divulge.

Fitz winked at her, softly replying, "That is wonderful. I'm sure you will."

"What about you?" Olivia was eager to switch attention.

"Oh, it is what it is. I don't like staying comfortable. I want to please others. I want to be okay with what I'm doing, even in this world of perpetual changing. One minute, they will adore me, and the next, they'll eye someone else who looks better or is more talented. I do what I can. I'm grateful. But happiness is something I have to work on, by myself. My work doesn't define me. I can't. I'm choosing to not let the bullshit get to me."

"Is that so?"

"Yeah. When I have people like you, constantly putting me down, decimating my flirting game to smithereens, I have to stay humble."

Olivia burst out in laughter. He was making her laugh. The butterflies stirring. All of this was so new. Nudging his knee with hers, she answered, "Thanks."

They grinned at each other, but the moment was short-lived; Olivia turned away because she knew her cheeks were turning red. Their eyes were telling so much. She never knew a genuine conversation over two glasses of water could spark a connection. It was different - this _thing_ she and Fitz were having. Was it lust? An infatuation? A performance crush? She was unsure of how she was feeling.

Fitz made her think honestly about herself and her goals; he was asking the right questions. They were being honest and open. It was a new experience. The extent of her recent relationships were quick banter and emotionless sex.

"So."

"So…"

Fitz casually gestured towards the kitchen. "You're not hungry? I don't remember seeing you eating more than a crusty ass granola bar and yogurt."

"I don't know. I don't think—"

Olivia couldn't finish her sentence because it felt like her throat tightened as her eyes were zoned in on his lips. They weren't full like hers, but they had a shape that she loved. Something about them made her weak. Resisting was useless; he was right there and she continued to observe his face. All of the features. How his eyelashes batted when he blinked. The sharp outline and edges of his face but still there was a softness to his frame. As much as she was entranced, Olivia was still aware of Fitz's hand caressing her face; his thumb gently brushing her cheek.

"You're so beautiful," he whispered, admiring her features. "I just want you to know that."

Olivia didn't want to take any chances, so she leaned in to kiss him, which escalated quickly. Fitz began to hum while passionately exploring her mouth. Her hands crept to his shoulders, holding onto him. The control she used for holding a pose or keep her leg lifted, or the determination and patience she usually displayed in general, had vanished in this moment. Certain Fitz was going to follow her lead. Her assumptions were correct - he grasped her waist, maneuvering her onto his lap.

Hands raking through his brown locks while their mouths attached, playing an intense game of tongue hockey. His hair felt amazing against her fingertips. The material of her sweatpants were not as stiff as Olivia assumed; she could feel him so well while her lower half thrusting against his hardening cock. It was like she had no control of her body and the friction was unbelievably delicious.

"Shit," she muttered, as her head fell back, incredibly satisfied.

"What," Fitz breathed heavily. He was worked up as well, slowing down with this dry humping.

"You. We're not even doing anything and you...you're making me wet."

Fitz gave another crooked smile, before scooting from under her. Olivia watched him as he stood. Tousled hair, swollen lips. Chest heaving up and down. She noticed his shirt was quite thin; she could see everything underneath. He lifted the shirt over his head, giving Olivia a sobering view.

The only time she saw him shirtless was in the lush hotel suite she had no business being in. Alcohol had covered her senses that night but now she was receiving a second chance to witness all of this this. Sharp lines of muscles and veins. Patches of hair covering his chest, with a trail of dark brown that started from under his navel to below the boundaries of his jeans.

"Olivia."

Fitz's mouth looked tantalizing. She couldn't believe how good he sounded when he spoke. Her name flowed from his lips like a praise chorus. Closing her eyes, attempting to will away this temptation.

"Damn it."

He reached down to look her square in the eye, hands gingerly framing her face. His eyes, shifting back and forth, were trying to find an explanation.

"Hey. What's wrong?"

"I don't know if I can handle this right now."

Olivia had a weakness for physical touch and intimacy, but almost always used that desire poorly. The intent wasn't to use him as a physical fling and then publicly disregard him anymore. It was a trend she did want to break, but never enforced this new resolution. Maybe he didn't care. He could be just like her, dealing with the here and now, being physical and not deal with emotions. She had this way of becoming a caricature of her true self. To protect her heart. Distant. Off-putting. One-track minded.

"It's okay. You tell me what you want to do. I won't pressure you. We can take it slow."

Her heart sank hearing those words. He was actually being considerate. he wasn't the type to hit it and quit it. All the others she made time for, to fuck with, were extremely selfish and only wanted her as a prize to brag about. She was incredibly selfish too, disregarding how the man would feel afterwards. It was a routine.

"But I want to do this," she replied, with a small crack in her voice. Fitz grinned. He nuzzled her neck, kissing her slowly. His gentle touch threw her for a loop. When she reciprocated, deepening the kiss, and immediately moved her hands down to his crotch, dismantling his belt, unraveling the button, and zipper. The urges were overwhelming Her fingers made quick work of pulling down his jeans and boxer briefs. A satisfied moan came out when everything was off of him. Fitz had been blessed with beautiful anatomy. No one in their right mind could deny that. Olivia caught herself biting her lip, so appreciative.

"Hey. I'm naked. Why aren't you, lady?" Fitz teased, reaching for the hem of Olivia's t-shirt. She laughed at his realization.

"Let's fix that."

Olivia took it upon her self to strip down to her bra and panties. Fitz's eyes were wide and fixed on her figure.

"May I?"

"You may."

Her skin began to goosebump as Fitz stood behind her. Olivia giggled while he delicately removing her final layer. As soon as his lips touched her back, Olivia was a goner. Feeling like putty, she knew she had to touch him, taste him, feel him.

"Fitz."

"C'mere," he invited her to join him on the couch. Olivia sauntered over, following his instructions to lie down. She took a slow, deep breath, keeping her eyes on him as he crouched down. Silently, he asked for permission. When she gave her approval, Fitz spread her legs apart, catching a view of all of her.

The anticipation was out of control. Olivia was not used to a slow round of foreplay. Fitz was taking his time and he seemed to love the speed, which was driving her crazy.

She nearly had an orgasm from feeling him massage her clit and lower lips. She shouted, with a laugh. "Yes!" Her body writhed consistently as he substituted with his mouth to work his magic on her sensitive flesh, sucking on his thick fingers to taste her arousal, before reaching inside once again. Curling the tips to reach her most sensitive spots. Olivia couldn't handle much more, hearing his throaty groans and feeling his firm grip on her thigh to keep her in place.

"Fitz, I need you."

Before she knew it, he was hovering over her.

"Absolutely, baby."

His form was intense, but his touch was extremely gentle, and his eyes were filled with so much compassion. Olivia didn't doubt that he had been with other girls, so he must have had some ritual down pat, but somehow, he made her feel so desirable, like she was only made for him. As they kissed, she wanted to capture this moment forever. No one had ever treated her this well while fucking her, or preparing to do so. She didn't want to forget any of this. She had to remember what it felt like and what to now expect from a man.

Olivia opened her legs more, ready for him to continue. After he sheathed himself, he filled her, giving her exactly what she needed.

It was incredible.

An hour later, they hadn't moved from the couch. In between soft kisses and playful bites, Olivia and Fitz were regaining their strength. There was no use to rush back into their clothes. Their bodies were still warm and sweaty, from all the moving around they did. Literally after Fitz came, Olivia wanted more. Losing track of how much time they spent, satisfying each other. Olivia paid close attention to what he liked, what made him moan and curse, just in case she had the opportunity to please him. She also noticed how in sync they had become, even though there were a few awkward moments. It was fun and wild and beautiful.

Arms and legs intertwined, ever so close, they were making the most out of their remaining time together. Whispering adorably sweet nothings, teasing about flexibility, or the lack thereof.

Fitz looked down to see what Olivia was thinking about. "You feel okay? You're awfully quiet."

Placing a kiss on his chest, she smiled. "Yes. I wish we could do that again."

"A third time?"

Olivia's laugh was caught in her throat. "I have an appetite and I know from all that fucking we did, you do too."

Highly amused, Fitz said, "If we have more time, sure thing. Whatever you want."

"Yeah." She reached for her cell. It was already 1:30am. A couple of missed calls from Harrison, so that must have meant something important because he usually called. "I have to go."

Fitz's eyebrows lowered, while he held onto Olivia, squeezing her playfully. "No, you should stay until morning. You need to rest."

"I don't think so."

"But Olivia. I don't want this to be awkward. I can't let you just leave like this."

"It's not. I just have to go home."

She could tell he was going to fight this one out.

"Can I take you home? I rented a car. I can get you there ASAP."

The invitation was so polite, but it didn't feel right. She declined, "I'm alright. I've gotten back way later than this."

Fitz rubbed her shoulders, kissing the tender spot right behind her ear. "Are you sure?" His voice had become extremely husky, which turned her on even more.

"Call me a cab?"

"Okay."

She never hooked up with anyone from a show or a class. It was always someone random, or a friend of a friend. Not a co-worker. Not a castmate. She knew never to get too personal with anyone in her bubble. A major concern began to rise. Would they be able to separate this night from whatever they needed to do the next morning and the morning after that? With a bit of hesitation, she rose from of the comfortable position of Fitz's arms, and pulled her clothes off the floor. She thought it would be cute to do everything slowly, making sure he'd watch. When she looked back, his blue eyes sparkled while he dialed for the cab.

Thankfully, she had extra supplies in her bag, so she could clean up. While she got everything together, she noticed her face was glowing. It wasn't just because of the sex. There was a difference that she noticed in herself and not seen in a very long time.

When she returned to the living room, Fitz had only put on his jeans. They smiled at each other while Olivia prepared to leave.

"Thank you for tonight. Hell, thank you for this whole day."

"Why," she pondered aloud. "I didn't do much."

Fitz stood to embrace her once more. Kissing her forehead, he answered, "Because I got to know you. Just you and me. I wanted to see the real you and it's beautiful."

Her brain almost went into overdrive. She was not ready to hear such a confession. "I don't even know what to say, Fitz," she gently replied. "It's been a while since someone told me those things. It scares me. But, I can tell that you mean what you're saying. You're...amazing."

Olivia kissed him again, as a thank you, but jumped when a loud beep bounced off the window, from the street. Her annoyance made Fitz smile. It was odd; she didn't want to leave, but she knew she had to. It was only fair to mentally and emotionally reset without having him near.

"That's my cue."

Stepping outside towards the curb, Olivia was ready. But Fitz took her hand, pulling her in.

"I'll see you tomorrow."

Right after he spoke, he left a luscious kiss on Olivia's lips. His mouth felt so good, overtaking hers. Wanting to hold on as long as possible, she knew this meant something, but not clear as to why or what it was.

"See you in the morning."

On the drive back to her apartment, Olivia leaned against the headrest, closing her eyes to reminisce. She hadn't felt this good in ages. Kicking ass at an important audition. Getting to know Fitz and spend quality time with him. The whole day, they were together. That was more of a shocker because she didn't like being around people that much. But this was a milestone. She was back to being Livvie, a woman who could allow herself to feel and express freely, rather than Olivia, the hardened dancer.

How in the hell could Fitz Grant peel away her calloused layers to reveal something that she had not tried to show. Her vibrant, beating heart, and a soul that longed to be vulnerable.

The seconds and hours apart were going to be brutal.

* * *

 _Hope you liked. Let me know what you think. xo_


	6. Chapter 6

A naïve idea ran through Olivia's mind as she walked up the steps to her apartment door. She believed a miraculous entry at two in the morning could happen without incident — a lecture from her brother, questioning her whereabouts and other trivial shit. It didn't matter that he was younger than her. Harrison was always going to look out for her well-being, even in the city that they took permanent residence in for over a year. He was her guardian.

Quietly turning the lock, she prepared to tiptoe to her room at the end of the hall, and go to sleep. That was the plan. But as she stepped in the apartment, she found Harrison sitting in his favorite chair, reading. Waiting.

"Oh, hey. I didn't know you'd be awake."

She watched him react incredulously — knitted eyebrows, curled upper lip — before he let out a skeptical laugh.

"Surprise, I am."

"Sorry."

"You know you could have texted me that you were coming back. We've talked about this."

Olivia let out a short sigh. "Sorry, ok? I just…lost track of time."

By the look on his face, Harrison was ready to tell her off because this was a trend he didn't appreciate. Just because they lived in the city that never slept, didn't mean she had to be out at all hours. "Liv. I can't keep staying up late worrying about you. Wait—You seem upbeat. What's up with you?"

Trying to stay out of her "light", Olivia shrugged, "Nothing." She cringed, already knowing the rare octave change in her voice was a dead giveaway. Hiding information from her brother was almost always a lost cause.

"I bet," he replied. Leaning forward, he rubbed his chin and asked, "With Fitz?"

She rolled her eyes, turning away to place the keys on the wall fixture. "Yeah. I was."

"That's good. You have a little glow about you. I kinda like it."

It was always weird to hear her brother speak on her appearance after being with a guy. Like it was a bad thing that she wasn't frowning at the end of the day. "And?"

Harrison smiled, ignoring her defensive stance. "It's nice to see this side of you. It's a different kind of glow from when you dance your heart out. I always want you to be happy, sis. You can deserve to have a life outside of dance, ya know."

"I think was wrong about him," she quietly recognized. Again, hesitant to get a sassy remark or a "I told you so."

"Oh, yeah?"

Olivia suppressed the growing smile that was fighting to cross her lips. "Yeah. He's not as bad as I thought."

Harrison used his finger to swipe the page on his tablet, nodding confidently. "Told ya. I hope this jovial outlook stays after tomorrow. Well, once you jump off of your cloud, I need to tell you something."

Sprinting to her room, Olivia dropped the bag to the floor. Her mind was still back at Fitz's apartment as she changed into pajamas. As she stripped, she had to stop to get a whiff of her clothes. They smelled like him. It should have been a no-brainer to take a shower at that moment, but she didn't want to wash off his scent just yet. Weird as it was, this masculine aroma had her smiling from ear to ear, and reminding her to make a note to find the name of the cologne or whatever body spray he used.

"So, what's going on," she asked, returning to the living room. Harrison was in the middle of tidying up his corner.

"Got a call from the stage manager."

To receive a call so soon didn't seem right. Olivia was expecting to hear back in the morning and even then, the anticipation was nerve-wracking.

"And?

Harrison slowly cracked a smile. "You got a callback."

"Really?"

"Yes."

Instead of breaking into a dance party or rushing to her brother in celebration, Olivia frowned.

"What?"

"You could have told me as soon as I got in the door. Or, I don't know, texted me! When did you find out?"

Returning her sass, Harrison countered, "A few hours ago." He could have given her hell for anything else. But a callback to the most important gig in her mind? With no warning? Not cool.

"You could have called. You _should_ have called."

"You didn't text me when I asked when you were coming home."

Olivia crossed her arms. "Fuck off."

"You first."

The harsh glare the Pope siblings gave each other was short lived. The two laughed simultaneously. Even with their verbal spats, they were a team.

Growing up in a beach town, there wasn't much to do outside of the summer months. School was a given — only straight As were allowed — but outside of class, Livvie and Harri had become extremely close in their formative years. The water was their babysitter, keeping them company when their parents were working long hours as hotel managers. All the time apart caused devastating riffs; after fifteen years, her parents divorced, the hotel was sold, and emotionally, the family was exhausted. This led Olivia to be determined to become independent, and not allow circumstances to dictate her success.

Her brother was always going to be in her plans. No matter what, she would always take care of him, overriding any creative difference.

"This is good."

"Yeah, one step closer," she replied, plopping on the couch while Harrison shut down his tablet for the night.

"Is L.A. still the goal?"

Stretching her limbs, Olivia answered, "I want it to be. New York will always be the go-to. There will always be work for someone like me. As long as I keep my shit together. But I know there's more out there. I need it. Los Angeles would be a great milestone."

"Solo?"

"Not without you. That's if you want to be there. But I don't want to hold you back."

Harrison nodded with appreciation, as he rose from his chair. "Alright, missy. Rehearsal is early tomorrow so we need to get to bed."

"True."

"Oh no," he said, "You need to get up. No sleeping on the couch."

Olivia chuckled as she rose. "When is the callback?"

"Friday. I told them you would take a spot in the afternoon, so we will need to rush from filming."

"Seriously?"

Harrison reported, "I made some calls so you can get there in time. The rehearsal needs to be finished by 4."

Olivia could always appreciate her brother's intuition, but would be taken aback by the intensity of his go-getter spirit.

"Okay."

"Don't go there, you need to multitask. You need all the exposure you can get, my sister. That's good news. We still have a chance. Don't overthink this."

"I better have a chance. I deserve to be in there, Harri. The more I do, the likelihood of me getting cast is greater."

They exclaimed together, "Resume booster!"

Her confidence skyrocketed.

"The shoot."

"Right right."

"Stephen is ecstatic."

"I know."

"And to work with LaToia Fletcher? My God, what an opportunity, Liv."

"Yeah, yeah."

Harrison replied dryly, "Your enthusiasm. It blows me away. Alright, sis. Go get some sleep."

* * *

Being the human version of an alarm clock, Harrison was up and knocking at his sister's bedroom door.

"Are you up?"

Olivia groaned, turning over to fumble for her phone, foggy-brained and thinking of the day's events. Nerves kept her from sleep, tossing and turning for five hours.

"Sis, it's 8:45. We need to be out the door in 30."

"Uggghhh..."

"Stephen texted me and he's giving you a little wiggle room, but we need to be on set by 10. Instead of taking the train, he secured a driver. Will be here soon. If you want to skim over the call times, here," Harrison placed the iPad on the bed, offering his sister the confirmation she needed. "I'll make sure you have your breakfast sandwich and coffee by the time we leave."

No-nonsense and steadfast in his delivery of instructions, he tapped on his iPad.

"You're probably thinking about your audition and _him_ , but we gotta go and…"

"First of all, you don't know what I'm thinking about and two, we make it count," she said, finishing Harrison Wright Pope's favorite phrase, repeated whenever a situation was looked difficult. The resiliency kept them going — literally.

The car ride was quiet, minus the long slurps of coffee. Olivia was feeling groggy, but she knew she had to pull it together, and put on a good show for everyone. Her work outside of this project wasn't going to matter to this staff, so she had to bring it.

It didn't take long for them to arrive at the warehouse in Brooklyn, which had been transformed into a set with cameras and overhead lights. It was good to know people, specifically Mr. Stephen Lynch. When good vibes were exchanged, he treated people well.

The driver put the car in park, and walked around to open the door. Other than being in a limo, there was no need to be assisted at a gig. This was very new, but a wonderful start to the day.

"Good morning!"

Hearing Stephen's booming voice from afar, Olivia looked around for anyone who could tell her to drop off her belongings.

"Liv, come on over! I need you to meet everyone."

And so it started. Olivia usually didn't mind being the teacher's pet. The beloved dancer. The muse. But this — dancing on film — wasn't her forte. Being looked at, was not the problem. It was the countless retakes of angles that made her self-conscious. It was a different kind of insecurity then being on display in a sports bra and jazz pants.

The concept of doing something new for the first time. Olivia loathed change that she was not sure of.

One deep breath later, she walked to Stephen and what she guessed where the other crew members. The assistant director, videographers, and LaToia, the choreographer who could be her best friend or least favorite person.

Always the show pony for the strapping director. It didn't have to be that way, but they trusted each other and Olivia felt safe. The last four theatrical and dance productions he directed, she was the lead dancer.

The group appeared to be very interested in Olivia:

"So you're the beautiful dancer we've been hearing about."

"We've seen you in rehearsals. You're amazing."

"I already know someone will want you for their next video."

Olivia "smized" the whole time, gradually transforming into the diva she knew she could be.

After the introductions, she and Harrison found their trailer. They went over the call sheet, noticing the break times and length of each rehearsal block.

It worked in her favor that she was working on solo choreography with LaToia. A brilliant smile with a undeniable charm from the South, the powerhouse of a woman was ready to teach. Olivia noticed the enthusiasm immediately.

They were able to just knock the combinations out in twenty minutes. It certainly helped Olivia get focused for the taping.

During a mini-break with the background dancer and the assistant choreographer reviewing combinations, LaToia and Olivia were able to chat for a bit.

"Is this your first video?"

"Yes. How many have you worked on?"

"Five."

"Wow."

LaToia nodded, coyly smiling, "It's a trip every single time, always something different. The concept. Your cast. How talented your dance ensemble is. How much of a budget is there so I can work my magic."

"Where are you originally from?"

"Louisiana. Did the whole studio, poms route. School dance team all four years. Even coached for two. But I knew there was more for me to do."

That sounded just like her own life's path, so she asked for wisdom, "When did you decide that it was time to move on? When did that moment occur? Did something major happen?"

"No catastrophe," LaToia smiled, tucking one of her long bangs to the side. "It felt right in here."

Olivia looked to where she was pointing to — her stomach.

"Your conscience?"

"I call it my gut. That instinct that will lead you on the path, if you listen carefully."

"What if you think you're going one way, but keep doubting yourself?"

With another reassuring grin, LaToia said, "We all have our doubts and insecurities that we don't allow ourselves to face head-on, but you have to keep moving."

The conversation seemed to encourage her, and Olivia felt good enough to continue with rehearsal. Several ball changes, grand jetés, extravagant turns and leg extensions, and souténus later, another assistant came.

"Miss Pope, we have to get you ready for makeup and wardrobe. Please follow me."

Olivia thanked LaToia for a productive rehearsal. On her way to the makeshift dressing room, she heard her name being called, so naturally, she turned around to find the voice.

There was Fitz, Mr. Happy-Go-Lucky, walking with an exuberance that made Olivia smirk. His eyes were bursting with excitement.

"Hey, good morning!"

"Hi."

"Hi. How are you?"

"I'm doing alright, Fine," She replied with a blank expression. "Yourself?"

Fitz flashed a confident smile. "I'm great! Nothing like a first day, working on something new, being with good people."

"Cool."

Her answer must have been equally as frigid; Fitz began to frown, leaning in to watch her expressions.

"Are you sure you're okay," he asked in a more gentle tone, "You don't seem like yourself."

Olivia didn't know that he was paying attention so closely for a week to know how she was being "herself". "I'm fine, Fitz. Walk with me, I need to go to makeup."

"Okay..." Fitz titled his head, skeptically. "Is it about last night? I thought you had a good time."

Eying their surroundings, Olivia let out a sigh of exasperation before whispering, "There's nothing to worry about."

* * *

As Olivia got her makeup done, she began to think about her call sheet for the day. Stand by a building. Dance in the "street". Act in a scene with Fitz.

Dancing and acting at the same time? Sure, she knew how to give exaggerated _face_ while dancing on a marley floor, with stage lights shining down on her; but with adrenaline and determination running in her veins, her vision was changed so the audience would be hidden. They'd be close but just far enough to not make her anxious.

Under a camera's eye, every detail would be seen. Having Stephen and others be nitpicky over the wrong reasons. Plus, being in an actual scene with Fitz? That did not sound like a fun day at all.

The main issue? She was still working through certain insecurities, which were normal for a dancer, but being thrust into a new situation - film - was not always ideal. Outside of Harrison, no one knew how she truly felt, but money was money, and she did want to not just be known as a session background dancer.

Wardrobe laid out a form-fitting black jumpsuit and a pair of strappy silver LaDucas. Olivia switched clothes quickly so she could start this rehearsal. As she made sure everything was zipped and tucked in, she thought of the phrase that was spoken to her, and over her: "You can do whatever you put your mind to."

And with that, she opened the trailer door, and strutted off to set.

* * *

"Ok, Liv, give me more."

Quickly, she turned in a circle, swiveled her leg, and lifted it into a gloriously high kick, called a grand battement. On relevé, no less. After that, she moved diagonally, stepping forward into a powerful layout, dropping her arms as she leaned back.

Apparently, the executions weren't "fierce" enough. The take was going on forever; they had been working on the same damn scene for about 15 minutes. Stephen wanted a particular look and had the cameramen shoot clips of Olivia randomly bouncing around like a modern ballerina. It didn't make sense because she viewed herself as more of a jazz dancer. But of course, this was the job and she had to go along with it.

"Do it again, please."

"Her arch is immaculate! Look at that lower back strength," LaToia commented.

Resetting, Olivia repeated the combination, doing it exactly as she was instructed. When she pulled herself out of the layout when she heard "Cut!", her eyes shifted towards her mentor and director, hoping for a sign of approval.

"Liv, come on," Stephen gestured, his Scottish accent becoming stronger. "We need to move forward so please do it the way I asked."

"I'm doing my best, alright," she placed her hands on her hips, turning away to visualize this "perfect" move her director was looking for.

Two more times; tempers were still high. Olivia's jaw was clenched, while Stephen spoke with LaToia. As much as she hated being corrected in public, especially by someone whom she knew, she was grateful it wasn't in front of Fitz. That would have thrown her into a bigger loop.

"Alright! Take five, everyone."

Her shoulders slumped, very unsure of what was incorrect. What was going wrong? Was she really out of it? Her marks seemed to be right.

"What is your problem," Olivia question, shooting Stephen a frustrated glare.

"Look, Liv. What you give in the rehearsal hall or on stage, is spectactular. But the camera sees differently, and it's not showing as well. I don't know what the hell is going on but I need you to kick it into overdrive. I am putting my ass on the line for you. No one knows you like I do, and your behavior is making me look like an idiot. They already think I'm playing favorites."

Olivia's face soured; "Are you implying I'm dancing like crap right now?"

Stephen immediately crossed his arms in defense. "No! I'm not saying that. It's just not translating on camera. We're on a time crunch, plus I know that Harri scheduled you for the callback. So it's important that we hit these marks. Give me more face, express through your whole body. I'll have LaToia go over things with you when we return from break. I just need everyone to be happy."

"I need to get to back to the trailer? May I do that?"

"Sure," he replied, patting her hand. "You know I'm in your corner. We just need to get through this take and it will be smooth sailing."

Olivia curtly nodded, with her face void of expression. "Yup. I'll be back."

Walking to the trailer, she felt a few hot tears spill down on her cheeks. It wasn't the critiques that were hurtful. It was the realization that she wasn't at her best and she truly felt that she had been hitting it. That was her fear — failing.

She slammed the door as she made her way to her seat.

Fitz was sitting on the couch, in a t-shirt and jeans, reading an email on his phone. Just as he was about to greet her, he noticed her body language, and immediately asked, "Olivia? What's wrong?"

"Do you ever feel like you're fucking up everything?"

"All the time."

Looking into the mirror to make eye contact with him, Olivia continued, "I'm doing these steps correctly. Exactly how LaToia wants it. And now Stephen wants to have a powertrip and embarrass me in front of everyone! Maybe he's doing too much because we're close. But I didn't sign up for this!"

"I see."

Clenching her fists, she let out a heavy sigh. "Sorry."

"No, let it all out. I'm just a listening ear," he replied, with soft, understanding eyes. Olivia looked up into the mirror; it was the same gaze when he was on top of her, as they were making love.

It took her by surprise. Olivia allowed herself to let her mind temporarily wander to the night before. Her lips turned upward.

"What?" Fitz asked, trying to get into her head. His smile was so charming.

Shaking her head slightly, she answered, "I just needed a minute."

"You were thinking about..."

Olivia cut him off with a sharp "Shhhh!" But it was futile; they both started laughing.

"Don't worry, I have been too. Last night was awesome. You did great."

"I did?" She wasn't sure what direction the conversation was heading, so she was ready to put up an emotional wall.

Fitz corrected himself, standing up, taking a few steps towards her. "I didn't mean like that. You just...were so beautiful and perfect. And it was a wonderful end to a fun day with you."

Olivia understood and took his hand, giving it a squeeze. "Thanks. This was a good distraction."

"Hello?"

Stephen's assistant had knocked on the door. Olivia let go of Ftiz's hand, for fear of being caught.

"Yes?"

"Miss Pope, we're starting back up. Are you ready?"

Olivia repinned some of her stray hairs back in place and confirmed, "Yes. Ready to go."

"Hi, I'm Fitz. Mind if I tag along?"

Her eyes followed him as he introduced himself. His upper lip had this unique curl every time he said his own name, she noticed. Everything about him was so easy, so natural, so attractive.

This made no sense.

 _Was she getting too attached?_

The assistant nodded.

In silence, the three trekked back to the lot.

"Olivia."

Her eyes met Fitz's. Those blue orbs were soft, full of understanding. Olivia had not been that familiar with this kind of compassion.

Trying to answer, but for some reason, her throat was tight. He decided to allievate her nerves by gently touching her arm.

"You can do this."


	7. Chapter 7

The day had been so frustrating; it was the first time in a long time that Olivia felt like a complete failure. Every kick, turn, and jump were beyond lackluster in Stephen's mind. Sure, there was always room for improvement, but receiving harsh critiques and disapproving looks from him after every take, was a new type of low. Perhaps, it was a standard he needed to put in place to distance themselves, given their track record. But still, it hurt like hell. Olivia never doubted herself; she knew how to perform well. This was her life and her passion. But this was a different kind of pressure and she didn't like it.

" _You can do this."_

Those words brought Olivia back to life. Spoken by someone she didn't expect to help change her mood. She inhaled through her nose — preparing to get rid of the negativity — finally letting out a deep breath. Then, her eyes found Fitz's, which were a brighter kind of blue. She felt _relieved_. She curtly nodded, noticing Fitz's smile.

"You good?"

"Yeah," she replied, marching away, so she could get back to work.

Stephen was prepping the shot, with two crew members. When Olivia approached, he asked, "Are you ready?"

"Always." The raw confidence had appeared.

"Okay," he said, with a distant smile, "Let's do it."

It would have easy for her to act out in revenge, or be incredibly stubborn. But she didn't want to do that. Not like this, and not here with him watching in the distance. And sure enough, he was. Standing behind the crew, arms crossed, waiting.

Before every performance, Olivia would repeat the mantra she had spoken over herself for years.

 _I can do this. I am capable. I am the best._

Stephen called for "Action". The playback started. Counting in her head, the passion arose. Her facial expressions and emotions were more visible. Digging deep, becoming more aware. The tangible energy bursting from her fingertips, with toes pointed just so. Beveling with the silver heels she was finally able break in. Everything was better, more comfortable. She wasn't going to be perfect, but she had to pull off that bandaid and let herself be free.

She was going to accept this challenge of change.

Ninety seconds of constant movement. The performance high she felt - nothing could beat it. Once she made herself still at the final count that LaToia crafted, Olivia sensed a calm.

They taped the combination three more times. After each take, she would glance at Fitz, confidently smiling.

"Cut," Stephen exclaimed, clapping along with the rest of the production staff.

Olivia wiped her brow, placing her hands on her hips.

Stephen rushed over, dragging his hand through his dark hair. "I've never seen you dance like that before! Where did this Liv come from?"

"Guess I just needed a minute," she admitted, lifting her foot to stretch tendons.

LaToia appeared, with a sweet, reassuring smile that made Olivia drop her shoulders, hoping to release the tension she was had built up. The adrenaline rush subsided.

"Hey," he whispered, taking a step closer. "I'm sorry for what happened back there. Just want everything to go well."

Remaining focused, Olivia slightly pursed her lips. The corners of her lips rose. "Look. I know you want a lot for me and from me, and I appreciate all you do. But don't you ever embarrass me like that again. Remember, I'm the one doing you the favor. You talk to me properly and if you need certain things, you need to tell me exactly what you want. I do not read minds."

It didn't matter to her how physically small she was, in comparison to her bosses. Olivia Pope was a brand and she would not be intimidated. Five feet and three inches of spunk and poise couldn't be missed.

Seeing her firm stance, Stephen deferred. "Duly noted."

"I'm not mad. Well, not that mad."

The two smiled.

Stephen extended his hand, "I know." When their hands connected in a shake, he added, "Love ya, Liv."

"Ditto."

"Miss Pope?"

Olivia turned to the assistant director. "Yes?"

"Your next scene is in one hour. Feel free to relax and prepare with your second outfit."

And off she disappeared to her trailer. Switching out her heels for a pair of Keds was a perfect exchange. Per usual, after a long stint of dancing, her toes were red and swollen. One ankle stiffer than the other. Even though her aches are normal, Olivia was more mentally spent than anything else. She set an alarm on her cell phone, then decided to rest her eyes, curling up on the plush couch.

When she returned, Fitz was taping his scene. His directions were simple; stand in place, turn random directions and walk from one side of the street to the other.

It was intriguing to hire a professional dancer and an actor who didn't have that much experience in the movement department, for a music video to showcase its concept: two souls meeting and finding a mutual dance in life. Watching him was like a dream. Especially since she wasn't actively moving, she had time to correctly observe how he was in his element. Moving with purpose. His long strides, walking with a powerful strut that no one could look away from. Now that Fitz was actually working — instead of charming his way into her system — Olivia appreciated his physique more.

Another break for lunch; Olivia kept to herself, with Harrison, going over two combinations she needed to know for her callback. Thankfully, she was able to munch on apple slices, chicken breast, and a cup of juice, along with water, in between eight-counts. Multitasking wasn't optional in her line of work.

LaToia prepped Olivia and Fitz for partnerwork. It didn't take long for them to figure out what to do, because of the impromptu session at the studio. Olivia remained quiet, while LaToia and her assistant demonstrated. Fitz was all smiles, drinking in everything, wanting to jump into action. She had an assumption — he wanted an official reason to be close to her. Observing how gregarious he was, Olivia could sense some jealousy and a competitive spirit within her. But she had to simmer down.

Finally, it was time to film. Olivia had changed into a white T-shirt and jeans, with Keds, so at least she was wearing something comfortable.

"Fitz, get super close to her! You need to make her smile."

He nodded in agreement and went to work. They began to sway to the faraway track of the song. Her breath hitched as his hands found their place on her waist.

"Hey."

The raspy whisper wasn't convincing her to respond positively. It was all acting. She knew he was only following Stephen's instructions. Fitz wasn't stopping though.

"Last night was excellent.

Olivia shifted her hair to the side to receive a closer touch from him, giving the camera a more intimate shot. Her hand brushed against his chest; trying to make it more believable. Their eyes meeting, sharing a flirtatious look, while following the steps LaToia gave. Olivia used his face as a spot to focus on while he spun her around. Step touching.

"You know," he purred, with his lips painfully close to her earlobe, after bringing her closer again. Feeling his breath took her breath away. "When we made love, I wanted to lose myself in you. I didn't think I'd fall this hard for you. But I did. Your kisses…"

Olivia tilted her head back, and laughed, while holding onto Fitz's shoulders. It blew her mind that he would admit this, while they were in public. How could he be so candid?

Stephen clapped, admiring the exciting footage. "Yes! Yes! That was amazing!"

This continued for ten minutes. While resetting for another shot, Fitz winked at Olivia, still being as professional as she could be.

"What are you doing?"

"Making you feel comfortable. They want to see what we have. We're partners, right?"

Pulling the bottom of her shirt down, Olivia answered, "Touché."

Holding hands, jogging down the fake sidewalk, with the camera following them. Another short dance scene, with Fitz lifting her, while she arched her back slightly, crossing her ankles, creating a beautiful shape.

"And cut!"

Kelly, one of the assistants, scurried to Olivia, asking, "My God, Fitz is a dream. What did he say?"

Olivia mischievously shrugged, "Mmhmm." The blush on her face nearly gave the façade away. Fitz beamed with satisfaction.

The rest of the shoot flew by, and with no difficulties. Stephen called it a wrap, even though Olivia was needed for more taping in a few days.

It was after dusk, so the New York sky was sprinkled with oranges, pinks, and lavenders. Olivia and Fitz walked back to the trailers together, making light conversation.

"You look amazing on camera," Fitz playfully nudged her shoulder.

Her eyes lit up at his statement. "Oh, how do you know about this?"

"The camera eats you up! I snuck around, watching the screen as you did your solo work. I know you saw me. You're remarkable. I knew I made the right choice."

Olivia giggled for a moment, then stopped to glance at Fitz. He was laughing as well. It was a nice, non-threatening exchange. He licked those smooth lips before interjecting, "Hey, I'm going to get my stuff. Meet you back here in a few?"

"Absolutely. I'll be over there," Olivia pointed to the corner where Harrison was standing. "Don't keep me waiting."

Fitz rubbed his jaw — that Olivia found so beautiful — winking, "Of course not."

She couldn't help but grin as she mosied towards her brother. Passing by a couple of interns, she overheard them talk.

"That dancer is smokin' hot. She should be in more commercials or a world tour. Petite but hella sexy. Maybe a little short to be a video vixen but wow, but everyone would do a double take if she was on the screen."

That made Olivia's ears perk. In a world where compliments were hard to come by, hearing good things about herself was always a mood changer, particularly after this long day.

"Did you see how she was looking at the Grant guy? They act like they already know each other."

"What's the bet that they've already fucked?"

"Oh yeah, they totally fuck."

Olivia's cocky smirk vanished. Before anyone could catch her reaction, she powerwalked to Harrison.

 _They totally fuck._

Was it that obvious? That was the second to last thing Olivia wanted to hear. Nothing made her blood boil more.

Being publicly connected to a co-star.

She was losing her touch, but she shouldn't have been surprised. They were probably looking too comfortable; their smiles were brighter. The usual stern look she gave, wasn't there when he talked to her. That could have been a sign because Olivia was known for slowly warming up to people.

It had happened before. Four times to be exact. Since the move to the Big Apple, Olivia always gravitated towards some handsome guy, gradually flirting and allowing him to spoil her rotten. Appreciating the constant affection, she getting as much as I could out of it without getting caught. A dealbreaker. She never hesitated to act like he was an outcast when others were around.

Of course, that mindset got her all the way fucked. Figuratively and literally. Either rushing to break the relationship off, and getting flak, or she would get duped, beaten at the exact game she started. The last time was with one of Stephen's former assistants. That rendezvous turned into a month of awkwardness, as Olivia dodged every phone call, conveniently bowing out of rehearsals. Then, after the assistant refused to work with any project Olivia was featured in, she received a strong lecture from Stephen. That caused the initial riff between director and dancer.

These mishaps allowed her make create distance. Olivia avoided others with a passion, blocking her feelings to settle into a situation like this. The heartache she endured as a child — being ignored and rejected by her parents, and others who meant something to her — covered any source of life so her answer to anything was to shut down emotionally before it was too late.

Olivia learned the hard way that any level of "romance" could definitely tarnish her path to stardom. Seeing how an ill-timed tryst affected my mentors and co-workers. She was all for having a good time and a great fuck, but it was essential to detach afterwards. After the messy breakup with Stephen's assistant, she promised herself that no matter what happened, she would let not a man take my focus away.

Fitz Grant was becoming a problem. Only two weeks in and he was a problem.

"Harrison, c'mon. We need to leave."

"I thought you were waiting for Fitz. I saw you talking."

Olivia glared at her brother, while adjusting the strap on her dance bag. There was almost nothing that would escape his eyes — he was too observant. "I know that, but those douches were talking about me and obviously, I am annoyed. So we need to go."

"About what, Sis?"

She muttered, "They think Fitz and I are together."

"But..." Harrison started, tongue-in-cheek, with brown eyes sparkling. "Aren't you? I see how y'all are. A little too close for my liking. Especially for the self-proclaimed loner like yourself."

Olivia was ready to push Harrison into traffic. Once again, her words were not lost on him, and he wasn't dumb. When she didn't answer but continued her death stare, Harrison must have realized to quickly get back on his sister's good side.

"Do you want me to talk to them?" Harrison retrieved his phone.

She slowly nodded with exaggeration, giving him the okay. When he approached the two men, Olivia knew that it would be handled. Her brother always had her back, and vice versa.

A touch on her arm, made Olivia shriek. Turning around in irritation, she found the culprit to be Fitz, donning his signature crooked smile. As her expression soften, she was still confused, with two questions on her mind. How he could be so sneaky, given his tall frame and gait? And how self-involved she had become to not know that he was nearby.

"I thought you were going to wait for me."

"Yeah," she fibbed, "I got distracted and needed to put down my bags."

A few voices in the distance, were a reminder of what was at stake. Her eyes wide with terror, Olivia promptly turned on her heel, with Fitz catching up to her.

"What was that all about?"

"We need to leave."

Fitz's soft brown eyebrows lifted in surprise. "Why?"

"Trust me on this. We just don't need to be seen together."

"Why not?"

"I don't need extra attention, Fitz."

Fitz chuckled and shook his head. "We were on set together for almost ten hours today, and the thing you're worried about is a visual? But isn't that what you want? To be seen?"

Completely flustered, Olivia knew he caught her. She loathed confrontation unless she was the one to initiate it; there had to be a way to distract him.

"Want to come to my place? Show you around?"

Fitz quickly licked his lips, then whispered in a husky tone. "Are you trying to steer the conversation somewhere else? Because I know what you're doing."

"Yeah," she answered, turning on her performer's charm. "To celebrate our productive day. I'm ready to get out of here."

* * *

Harrison wasted no time in ditching Olivia and Fitz, sending them off, after dealing with the interns. The ride from the shoot was boring, only taking thirty minutes to arrive to the complex. When Olivia unlocked the door and invited Fitz inside, her eyes nearly fell out of their sockets. Straight ahead, the wreck, also known as her room was in plain sight. Dropping her bag, she bolted to close the door.

"What are you doing," Fitz asked, obviously confused by Olivia's frenzied, Tazmanian devil-like action.

"My room's not fit to be seen at the moment," she exclaimed. "Didn't even think about that when I invited you. Hell, we don't have many visitors."

His smile returned. "Oh, yeah, that can be an 'Oh, shit!' moment."

Olivia went to the kitchen, while Fitz got settled. Thankfully, she went grocery shopping earlier in the week, pulling out a frozen pizza. "You want some? Clearly, my spontaneity got the best of me."

"Sure," he said, hands behind his head, leaning back against a cushion. "Your planning skills are at a high!"

Olivia stepped in the living room, quickly flipped him the bird, which resulted in a heart laugh from Fitz.

A little bit later, he called from from the living room.

"You have a nice place. Have you always lived here?"

"No, Rehoboth Beach."

Fitz said, "Ahh, I've heard of that. Delaware, right?"

"Yes, sir."

"Do you visit home a lot?"

"We don't," Olivia plainly admitted, chopping vegetables for their salad. "It's just Harrison and me, so there's no point. New York is home now."

An awkward silence followed.

"Do you have any family who live on the East coast?"

"I think I have a second cousin who is in DC, or something," he answered. "My roots are in California. My parents live in Santa Barbara."

That was one of her main lines of defense — deflection. She didn't want anyone knowing more than necessary. It wasn't a sexy story to tell and Olivia never wanted her backstory to determine how her jobs would play out.

Dinner seemed to be a success. Nothing was burned and Fitz ate everything that was on his plate. As she left to clean up, Fitz volunteered to wash the dishes, so Olivia allowed it. Standing side by side; she felt extra small next to his six-foot-something frame. But it was nice. A soft jab on her arm — this time she was more aware of her surroundings — got her attention.

"Thank you for inviting me over."

Olivia shrugged, coyly smiling. "You're welcome."

"Hey. I want to tell you something."

Wringing out the cloth, neatly placing it to the side on the dish rack, she looked up. "Yeah?"

"I meant what I said on set. You must have thought I was just playing the part, but I'm honest. I like you. A lot. You drive me wild."

Her mouth opened, but Olivia had no words, unable to compute what Fitz was telling her.

"Oh?"

"Is that okay," he asked.

Her voice quivered. Somehow, she was frozen by how sensual Fitz was. His deep voice, the way he looked at her. Soulful. It was throwing her off, and yet, she couldn't resist.

"Uh-huh."

Their lips inching closer. His hands rose to caress her face, gently holding her as they kissed. She draped her arms around his neck and sighed into his mouth, which encouraged Fitz to kiss more fervently.

There wasn't enough space in the kitchen to do anything, so Olivia nudged him back into the living room. She wasn't the kind of woman who usually wasted time on innocent making out; one hand crept his pants, and the other placed firmly on his chest. Fitz stepped away to strip down. She followed suit, rapidly shucking her clothes to the added pile. Her mouth began to water as she watched Fitz sit down on the couch, only in his boxer briefs. Giving him a genuine smile, Olivia tucked her thumbs inside the cotton, pulling down Fitz's final layer, allowing herself to see his member right in her face.

"Olivia," he moaned, while she lowered her mouth onto his dick. Hearing him respond, encouraged her to do better; working her magic for several minutes, switching between sucking and playing with his balls. Every so often, his hips would jerk and that was all she needed to know if he was being satisfied.

"Fuck. Oh, shit," Fitz hoarsely whispered, massaging her scalp. Olivia lifted her eyes, meeting his lustful gaze, using her tongue to swipe him exquisitely. That did the trick. His cum spurted down her throat, while he moaned. Music to her ears.

After stepping back, looking at how swollen and pink he was, watching him recover, she rubbed his legs. "You like that?"

"Hell yeah, baby," he lazily smiled.

Thinking she was done, Olivia began to saunter away. But Fitz took her by the hand, pulling towards him.

"You thought this was over?"

Olivia giggled, as Fitz laid her on the couch. She knew what was coming and she wanted it. She wanted him. She snapped off her bra, while Fitz quickly removed her thong, enjoying the view. Fully bare in front of him. Her eyes were trained on whatever he was doing. Admiring her feminine attributes. Reaching down to kiss her all over, his hands found their destination, opening her up, and began to feast. She knew when she was in the moment, she was a loud motherfucker. Lip biting could not mute her for so long. Fitz had this determination, he was set on making her orgasm, with his mouth. Sure enough, he did.

Fitz reached into his wallet, pulling out a condom.

"Well prepared, Grant."

"Always."

Olivia was turned on by Fitz, completely naked, deftly sheathing himself. Hovering over her, Fitz kissed her passionately before guiding himself, slowly entering.

As her eyes closed, and mouth opened, Olivia rememered vividly at how well endowed Fitz Grant was; even with protection, she could feel every part of him. Once they were situated, Olivia swiveled her hips, hoping every sensation would create more desire between them. Her heart raced every time he pulled out and refilled her. Between loud sighs, skin slapping, and flirty phrases, she'd kiss him like it was the last time. The temptation to resist was futile.

"Yes," Olivia hissed, digging her manicured fingers into his strong back. Fitz began to thrust harder, palming her breasts as they bounced along to the rhythm that was set. The gel that the stylist used for his hair, was finally dissolving; a long, loose curl had fallen on his now slick forehead. The man was doing work on her. Hearing him grunt made everything better.

"You good?"

"Mmhmm," she agreed, nose scrunching in delight.

During a lull, Fitz lowered, mumbling into Olivia's neck. "Fuck, you feel so good right now. You're amazing."

No one had ever talked to her like this — genuine and sensual. The tonal quality in his voice was exquisite, and pushed Olivia to the edge. His eyes shone with determination as he quickened his pace, to get her off. Letting out a boisterous scream, she closed her eyes, shuttering as her walls contracted, and the nerves in her clit exploded, after being rubbed almost raw by Fitz's thick digits, bringing her to completion. When she opened her eyes, Fitz was watching her, placing a kiss on her forehead. There was a sweetness about him, again making sure she was alright.

A few more minutes of looking deeply in each other's eyes, while Olivia's hips lifted to meet Fitz's lazy thrusts, before he unraveled. They stilled, holding on to each other. Olivia exhaled, realizing how spent she was, from the long work day to this. Usually, she'd get up immediately to wash off, but for some reason, she didn't want to. Their breathing had become synchronized, which scared Olivia. She had chemistry with other guys before, but she never felt so connected with someone.

Softly pressing her hand on Fitz's cheek, Olivia grinned. "Hi."

"Hi."

It was getting late, and not knowing what he was up to, Olivia suggested he stay over. The rest of the night was spent to shower, and retire to her room, but as she let herself fall asleep, with Fitz spponing her, Olivia began to think about what would happen next.

How much longer would this last?


	8. Chapter 8

Inhale. Exhale.

Breathe it in. Let it out.

Keep moving. Be still.

Contract. Release.

After years of training in the studio and competing all over the East Coast, Olivia knew certain words would prompt change inside of her. A reset. Whenever she made her inner escape on the public dance floor, the phrases whispered. Or usually, exclaimed to pull her together.

Sliding, pushing, jumping, turning. Collaborating.

Most of all, breathing...

But also, the same words applied when she was with Fitz. When their eyes met, there was a mutual centering. Being able to communicate properly. Or sharing ideas without having to speak. They happened to be on the same page, most of the time. When one was off center, the other could assist in pulling back to reality. That ideal calm.

They moved in sync.

Olivia wondered if anyone else noticed. It astonished her how close they had become since the music video. When she wasn't rehearsing for the upcoming show, or auditioning, she was thinking about him. Always daydreaming of his smile, the intense hold on her when they embraced, and of course, his kisses.

Somehow, their evening schedules magically aligned, and they became inseparable. They spent time at cute spots away from the city. Learning about Fitz's life in California, which intrigued her greatly. Because that's where she wanted to be — _there_. Away from _here_.

And obviously, there was ample time to play and relax in bed, which was usually an anomaly to Olivia, but she was beginning to enjoy a break in her routines. She never liked having people in her space — an invasion of privacy. The invitation to stay at the apartment kept getting extended to Fitz on several occasions. But to be courteous to Harri, they would also hang out at the hotel where Fitz was staying.

Olivia wanted to make sure he remembered everything about her, or the parts she wanted him to know. That included the physical. The spark between them, this chemistry was fiery. Being fucked by Fitzgerald Grant was exquisite. It was more than just having sex. The connection was something she found rare.

"Hey."

"Hiya."

Slinking away from Fitz's warm body, Olivia curled her back, lowering her head towards his legs and his erection.

Fitz sat up on his arms, sleepily aware of her intentions.

"Olivia?"

Hands ghosting the area, she asked, "May I?"

"Uh, yeah, sure. Okay."

It was easy to move forward, after pulling the sheet away, that revealed his nakedness. Olivia delicately rubbed her thumb against the velvety, smooth skin that was starting to transform. Watching his erection grow made her wet. He was this way for her. Only her.

"Mmmm."

"That's right," she smirked. "You like that?"

"Yes," he gruffly sighed.

She was a tease, stimulating his flesh, pressing her lips all over, and eventually using her mouth to bring him to completion, thoroughly enjoyed having control. Just as his release drew near, Olivia pulled away.

"Shit… What the fuck happened?"

Fitz's pupils were dilated, his hair disheveled.

Olivia reached over to the dresser to retrieve a condom. Quickly, she unraveled it, and covered Fitz. Straddling him, after removing her tank, panties, and bra, she smiled. Fitz's eyes grew wide, highly amused by how fast she moved, and how full and perky her breasts were.

The motor skills she sharpened for over twenty years, she didn't mind using them outside of work. Lowering herself, she leaned down to kiss him, while still grinding. She desperately wanted to stay close. Skin to skin.

Olivia whispered, "I wanted you to finish while inside of me."

"Fuck..."

Watching Fitz's eyes roll, along with the subtle flare of his nostrils, encouraged her to continue. After they blissfully aligned, she pressed her hands on his chest. They were in a groove, hips rolling and bucking. Hands melding together — his left and her right. Sweat collecting on her brow, Olivia fell on his chest, listening to his strong heart pound.

"Mmm," she dragged her fingernails on his skin.

When she danced with a partner, Olivia's senses enhanced. Noticing how he breathed, when he blinked, his hand pressing on her hipbones or the small of her back, ready to lift or turn. She was catching Fitz's go-to moves. Pushing his nose on the side of her neck. His tongue connecting with hers. The urgency of his hips moving, watching to reach her inward spots, that caused her to moan and cry out for him.

Fitz stopped to admit, "I want to pull your hair so badly, is that okay?

"Sure," she almost laughed, touched by the consideration. "Thank you for asking."

His hand and grabbed a fistful, intently tugging, making her grunt in approval. It felt damn good.

"Yes…"

Her abs tightened as she sat up; the pull made her want to do more. It brought forth a renewed burst of energy.

Her core contracted, squeezing on his cock.

"Oh, Fitz!"

Her eyes snapped shut, holding on to him for dear life. A few seconds later, Fitz followed.

Olivia would never forget how wonderful he made her feel.

He asked, "You alright?"

"Yes."

"Good. Just wanted to make sure, beautiful."

Olivia exhaled, slowly releasing herself from Fitz. It was so cliche, but she surely felt empty not having him inside of her. Not that he was the only one who needed to have access to her, but she was going to think twice before having sex with anyone else.

"I like you."

"Me too," he grinned.

Olivia looked for the slight indent on his cheek, not quite a beauty mark, maybe a scar, but it was obvious when he smiled. Her index finger gently stroking it.

"What are you doing today?"

"Going to a dance class and they're taping the combo for their YouTube page, so hoping I'll get picked to be on the reel. You?"

"I have an audition."

"Oh?"

"Yeah," he replied, lazily stretching his long limbs. "I have a few more days in the City. Might as well take a chance. Never want to lose out on opportunities."

Olivia turned her head so he wouldn't see her hesitation. And in that moment, her heart was starting to break. Reality was kicking in, and decisions would need to be made. Would she go back to her old ways and break it off before they had a heart-to-heart? Or actually try to work something out, given the upcoming distance?

"What?"

"Hmm?"

"You looked away. You always look me right in the eye. Always," he firmly noted.

Olivia could feel everything inside contract as his eyes looked right through her; she fibbed, "I thought I heard my phone."

"Your phone is over there," he pointed to the device, at the foot of the bed, plain in sight. "Didn't hear anything."

"Right."

Resting her head on the pillow, she let out a deep sigh.

This wasn't the plan. I wasn't supposed to fall for him.

"What are you thinking about?"

"How I need to get to my class."

Another reliable excuse to avoid her true feelings. Olivia was a deflector. She didn't want to get hurt again, so she'd always avoid, pivot, and refocus conversations and relationships. They had to align to what she wanted. If she could tell, in her gut, that things wouldn't end on a positive note, she'd cut things off so quickly. Nine out of ten times, the other person would be blindsided.

But Fitz was...different.

"Hey."

"Yeah?"

"Come back to me."

"I'm right here."

Fitz inched closer, so close, it took her breath away. "Let's make the most of this. You never know," He offered, drawing reassuring circles on her back, and a kiss on her bare shoulder. "What time is your class?"

"Eleven."

"I'll walk you over."

Olivia scoffed, "No. Won't you be late for your audition?"

"It's at noon and I'll take a cab or Uber."

"Okay," she pulled away, collecting everything she needed to shower, and prepare for the day. "I need to get ready to go."

* * *

Time was not on her side. She needed to be honest with him about their status, but like he mentioned in the warmness and privacy of his room, she was going to give this dynamic an effort.

After a quick rehearsal, Olivia called Fitz.

"Hey."

"Hey."

"Soo, umm. Do you want to take a class with me?"

"What?"

"Let's take a class."

Fitz laughed, "What kind of class?"

"Whatever you want."

"Can't be complicated."

"How about a jazz class? Something fun. Drop-ins are always fun to do."

Fitz hmm-ed and ahh-ed. "I could always work on my rhythm and confidence in movement, Miss Pope. Remember when I surprised you when we met?"

"How could I forget," she laughed, stuffing her bag. "I think that started my attraction to you."

"I know."

"I'll text you the address. Three o'clock."

* * *

The two met each other at the New York Premiere Studio, one of Olivia's mainstays when she moved to the city. The place was always bustling with movers. Seasoned professionals, movers who need to brush up on their technique between Broadway runs, and visitors from around the country.

The two stopped at the front desk. Olivia said "hello" to the receptionist."Hi Jo, two slots for the advanced beginner / intermediate jazz."

Jo punched Olivia's card. "Enjoy."

The class wasn't too crowded. Naturally, Olivia moved straight towards the corner, to get situated, while Fitz changed into his shoes.

"C'mon," she tilted her head, gesturing for him to follow. Fitz stood in the back, while Olivia was a few rows ahead.

The instructor sauntered in, greeting everyone, and turned on a loud mix of current and old school songs.

After warmups, moving across the floor, testing how well pirouettes could be executed on marley, there was a three minute break. Olivia walked over to Fitz. He was leaning against the barre; his shirt was fairly drenched, along with his hair. The adorable long curls sopped on his forehead.

"How goes it?"

"It's going. I don't know how you do this every day."

Olivia patted his arm, "Stamina. Endurance."

"I have those things. Just not in dance…"

It was a joint moment of embarrassment and intrigue, as Olivia took one step away. Fitz reached for her.

"Kidding. I won't embarrass you."

When it was time to go across the floor, they were partners. Olivia was lowkey surprised that Fitz was able to keep up. His focus was incredibly attractive, which almost threw her for a loop. Some of the other students were impressed as well, keeping an eye on him, batting their eyelashes, wanting to partner with him.

The jealousy in Olivia, made her stay by his side.

A quick 32-count combination was taught, and then the session ended. The class applauded in reverence. Olivia pivoted towards Fitz, with a knowing smile.

"You did a good job."

"Thank you. I'm glad I joined you."

"I'll see you later?"

"If you want."

A quick peck on the lips, and they went their separate ways.

* * *

"You really digging Fitz?"

"Harri…"

The siblings finally reunited a few days after the dance class; with Fitz out of the picture momentarily due to tech week for the dance concert, it gave Olivia time to catch up back at home. Obviously, the questions and answers began over Chinese food and wine.

"No, I mean it. You're with him all the time. All. The. Time."

"Stop."

Harrison continued, after shoving a luscious dumpling into his mouth. "As your brother, manager, and confidant, it would behoove me to know a little bit about this. Will this affect your work? The long standing dream to move and book this tour? A mere thirty-six hours away from this important concert, which without doubt, is the last audition for the tour? They're only going to take the most dedicated."

"It's— Complicated."

"How so? You meet someone you want to be with? Will you be able to balance this new relationship and your job? I know you can. Don't act like you won't be able to."

Olivia shifted her weight on the couch, with nerves kicking in. "We're not..."

"Dating? Uh, yeah, you are."

"No, we are not."

"Does 'FWB' work better for you?"

"Shut up."

"Fuck buddies?"

Olivia threw the pillow behind her, hitting her brother right in the face.

"Shit, Livvie! But seriously, tell me what this is."

"There's nothing to tell. It's nice, enthralling. Something I wasn't expecting, but I like it."

Olivia rummaged over her rice and pork, beginning to lose her appetite. Her brother would be the one to give it to her straight, encouraging her to think outside the box. It was never an one-and-done.

"Whatever you decide, I support you. Just give me a heads up, so when people call me, and some will call, with the video coming out soon, I can say the right thing."

* * *

The concert had finally arrived. All of the hours with Stephen and the other artistic staff, buying new pairs of shoes, and inching into a sexy leotard and booty shorts. It was a quick weekend project, but the team had worked several months on it. Olivia was one of six performers chosen: with three girls, two guys. It was great to learn the choreography, that was edgy and challenging. With the video disrupting her flow, she was thrilled to be back at it.

Her time was spent between the studio and the venue, so Fitz wasn't in the picture. It took her a while to not think about him fucking her or was it actual lovemaking? Whatever it was, she couldn't let it tamper her performance, which would be watched by so many people she needed to see her.

After the final runthrough, Olivia was greeted by a small bouquet of luscious roses at her dressing room spot, in front of the mirror.

 _Break a leg! You're going to be great._

Skeptical, Olivia's nostrils flared. Harrison never sent flowers. She was hoping it wasn't the tall musician who had been attempting to flirt all week. That would have been a total bust because she was not interested.

In the dark, everyone sauntered to their exact spots on stage. As soon as the lights were on, Olivia gave all she had: hitting every mark on each beat that was given. Her hair was out in a wild, powerful mane. A halter top, short shorts, sexy boots. Getting her hip-hop and sexy jazz groove on.

These were the moments when Olivia shone. Brightly smiling for everyone to see. She wanted them to watch only her. Every double and triple pirouette, chassé, split leap, dipping layout, and tilt. The spotlight was meant for her.

After the curtain closed with the thunderous applause, Olivia raced to her corner in the dressing room. She knew people were wanting to see and entertain her, but bed and a large glass of wine were calling.

"Liv," the stage manager announced, "You have a visitor."

She gasped, "What? Really? Let me change first!"

It didn't take too long to transition back into her street clothes. She secured her flowers in the crook of her arm, rushing to find whoever came. Walking down the stairs towards the lobby, her anticipation rose, ready to meet any agent or interested party.

Olivia's heart sank when she found Fitz perched against the wall, in a baseball cap, a dark shirt with some band name on it, and tight grey jeans. His body jolted when he noticed her entrance.

"Hey! You did a great job."

"Thank you, I didn't even know you knew about this."

She tried to not let her teeth-sucking get too loud as he kissed her forehead. "Thanks."

"You're not happy to see me?" Fitz playfully asked. His eyes searched her for a nonverbal response. A tad annoyed, she grabbed his hand and yanked him down the hall. He asked why they were leaving.

"We can't be here, not together."

"Olivia, why not? No one's here."

"You don't know that. I'm trying to keep you safe. People are always watching."

"I'm good, Olivia. I'm only here before I wanted to see you."

"Oh, great. Hope you weren't disappointed," She replied, feeling her eye twitch.

"Olivia," he announced, in a strong manner. "Why do I get the sense that you're hiding something or afraid of letting me get close to you?"

"What are you talking about?"

"I know this seems crazy, but since last week, you've been putting up so many walls. I'm not used to that."

"Did you get these for me," she interrupted, looking at the bouquet.

Fitz nodded, "Yes. They're for you."

"Thank you. They're beautiful."

A few audience members walked by, congratulating Olivia. She smiled, thanking them for coming to the show. When they left, her grin disappeared.

"What's wrong, Liv?"

"I'm tired."

"There's something going on between us and I would like to explore that."

"Why?"

"I care about you."

Feeling her heart thump loudly in her chest, Olivia tried to shrug off her anxiety, rolling her eyes. "How is that possible? We haven't known each other that long. No one can have true feelings for a person in that short of a time."

Fitz removed his cap temporarily, aggressively combing his hand through his hair, visibly pissed. She looked down, but it was very clear his blue eyes were set on her, like a target. She knew she was treading on thin ice.

"Then what the hell was the other night? Us? In bed? No feelings were involved?"

"Can we not do this here," she suggested, beginning to walk away. "I just had an amazing performance, and we're doing a 180."

"Olivia, just answer me."

"We fucked, Fitz," she exclaimed, at the top of her lungs. "We've been having fun, getting to know each other. This is how this goes. I don't know what else you want."

She watched him stormed off to pace the floor. His jaw was tightly set and his chest heaved up and down. This spectacle was a definite turn-off. Another reminder of why she didn't mess with relationships. Olivia Pope was not a fan of dealing with emotions. That was her downfall.

"You know, I don't want to be kept in a box. I'm not going to let you put me there, like everyone else."

Fitz shouted, with his face reddening. "Damnit, Olivia! I'm not like everyone else!"

Breathing deeply, she stared at him, waiting for a detailed response.

"I thought you'd know that by now. I wouldn't be bothering you if I didn't think I didn't have a chance with you!"

Baffled by Fitz's irritation, Olivia mulled over her next step. Everything about this was wrong and so damn repetitive. All of the men she interacted with, gave her the same spiel. She needed him to get it, so she had to confess: "Look. You're leaving soon, and I'll be stuck here. Doing the same old things, struggling to find the next job. Clearly fucking my way to the top," she declared with sarcasm, waving my free hand around. "I keep falling for guys who can never promise me anything. I'm only here to further my career. I know I will disappoint you over and over."

"That's not true. You're wonderful. I knew you were someone special the moment I met you. And honestly, you don't know me at all, if you think I'm someone you can just fuck and fuck over, then move on."

Olivia raised her hand in denial. "Just stop. You're trying to convince me that this is going to work out. I...can't do this. I'm not a project you can work on and have it completed in 48 hours. We… _I_ won't be able to go further with you."

"Get to know me," he offered. "I'll make it worth your time."

She froze in her tracks at his invitation. There was no way he could make that kind of promise. They were in two different situations. He could find someone else just like that and Olivia believed she would be a distant memory.

"Baby," she sputtered out, realizing she had never called him any pet names before. "I'm a mess. You don't need me the way you think you do."

The thick cloud of tension hung over them. Words were failing, once again. The guilt was finally kicking in. Putting her bags on the floor, Olivia took a step towards Fitz, trying to smooth things over.

"I'm sorry. It's hard for me to stick with it because I know one of us will leave eventually."

"Who said I was leaving? What if it's you?"

Olivia was stuck, challenged by Fitz, who was smirking, upping her at her own game.

The hallway was empty, just the two of them.

"Kiss me."

"What?"

Fitz crossed his arms, tempting her with his crooked smile, and alluring eyes. "Kiss me."

"I—"

"Liv."

She counted down from five, wishing logic would take over. But instead, she stood on her toes, reaching for his lips.

Fitz's hands reaching underneath her shirt, while Olivia threw off his cap. Kissing away her frustration and self-imposed angst.

Just when she wanted to keep going, Fitz stepped back, leaving her wanting more.

"I'm willing to be patient and I'll give you space. But my patience will run out. Think about it."

"Um, okay."

Fitz turned around and walked out, letting the door slam and leaving her in the dark hallway.

Olivia had to think about everything, as she met Harrison outside the stage door. Could she truly shake off this myth that she had to choose her passion and this relationship? She was going to give herself a day to reconsider and change her own mind.

* * *

 _Getting the angst out of the way. Liv is too stubborn for her own good. But yes, that's Liv. It's going to get better! A few more chapters left to this story._


	9. Chapter 9

"What is your problem?"

"What are you talking about?"

Olivia threw a confused look at Stephen, who was staring from across the table.

"You know what I'm referring to."

Anytime the duo finished a project, it was given that they would postmortem it. Their meeting place: a casual restaurant in Williamsburg for the usual lunch. It was the perfect spot: trendy, but extremely lowkey. Stephen always brought his crew here, to confirm plans and establish goals.

The music video was their tenth gig together. Everyone knew that whenever Stephen was involved with something, Olivia was always nearby. He had been her guardian angel since she was selected to be a backrow dancer for a short film he produced in grad school. The Universe smiled upon her and had Stephen pull her from obscurity, helping create the person and performer she had become. For the various concerts and shoots, they spent hours traveling up and down the East coast. Olivia and Stephen grew to appreciate their similiarities and differences; finding the calm in the other's madness. Tension always occurred, but they knew where they stood, and Olivia respected him tremendously. He was the older brother she always wanted.

"I talked to Fitz. You blew him off too?"

When Olivia didn't answer, Stephen laughed with unbelief. "Damn, girl, you keep on surprising me. For someone who constantly wants a man and his attention, you keep ditching the good ones. At this rate, you'll never be with anyone."

It had been nine days since Olivia last saw or communicated with Fitz. She wasn't that worried, because these lulls happened all the time. Perfomance crushes were a part of the cycle. People are with each other during long hours, weeks at a time. It was bound to happen. But at the end of the day, Olivia had to think about what opportunity she was going to land next. Being in a relationship was her enemy. It was something she knew from growing up; it was in her head to choose her work over people. It was wrong, but it was hard to for her to break that mindset.

"Fuck off. And how did this come up," she inquired, stabbing at the pile of french fries. "I thought we were discussing the video."

Stephen replied plainly, "I called him. I wanted his take on the whole thing. He asked about you, and then he told me about that debacle after our show."

Olivia's blood pressure began to rise; once again, Stephen got word about her personal affairs and it irritated her tremendously. "Why should I entertain this, knowing I won't see him again?"

"He likes you and you definitely like him."

She snarled at him, "I call bluff. I am the last thing on his mind."

"I beg to differ. Heard it in his voice when you got mentioned. And I know y'all hooked up. I'm not blind. How about being surprised by the rehearsal at the studio?"

Olivia shifted in her chair, embarrassment slowly creeping on her face.

"If you didn't like him, you would've slapped him during shooting if you weren't getting busy," Stephen commented, taking a bite of his sandwich, with no shame. "He did all the things you despise. Talking to you in between shots, laughing. Breathing."

In a rush, Olivia lifted her middle finger.

" _Everything_. He did everything you don't like. You've got it bad, girl. There's nothing wrong with that."

"Please, he doesn't faze me. I could find someone just that," she challenged with a snap of her finger. Stephen did not seem convinced; his blasé attitude, which included eye-rolling and the continuation of eating. Holding her glass of alcohol, she confessed: "I can't be another pretty face on his wall of girlfriends, flings, and fuck buddies."

"And he can be on yours?"

Nearly choking on her Long Island iced tea, Olivia grabbed the napkin to recover after her coughing fit. After settling down, she complained, "Stephen! Are you serious right now?"

In between sips of water, he boldly commented. "You really think I don't get you, Olivia Pope? How long have we known each other?"

Olivia's eyes remained on her drink, very hesitant to stroke his ego and further the point he was making, which was accurate.

"Hmm?"

"Three. Years."

Stephen agreed with a smirk; he leaned across the table and spoke in a low tone, as if he was hiding information from the public. "Absolutely. I know where you're at. You think this is a game you play, messing with others like they're your dollies."

She couldn't give a rebuttal to his obviously true statement. He lifted his finger as Olivia began to open her mouth, so it was clear he was not done.

"You find a guy, take him under your wing, use him to your advantage. Then you throw him away, after realizing he won't fit your ideal, which is already fucked up, quite frankly. You're no better than the guys you claim who do the same to you."

He was reading — listing the ingredients to a recipe she assumed only she knew about. For someone who had never been in a sexual relationship with her, Stephen knew everything. She worked so hard to be this enigma — an elusive girl that could not be understood by anyone. And still, he would always reach to the heart of my matter.

"You should get in touch with him."

Leaning back, with arms crossed, Olivia emphatically said, "Absolutely not. There's nothing to talk about."

Stephen raised his eyebrows again, "Oh? What was the last thing you said to him?"

A flashback of him leaving her back alone in that hallway… the disappointed look he had when she told him what they had was pointless.

Olivia shielded her face from the sunlight. This was getting so uncomfortable. "I informed Fitz that I wanted space," she answered quietly.

Stephen looked at her knowingly. "Hmm...yeah, and Fitz has been respectful of your wishes."

"Can we stop talking about him? He's not here." She fumbled for her oversized sunglasses. People knew they frequented the area. With Stephen's growing fame and the buzz about the video premiering, she coudn't tolerate being noticed while getting worked up.

"Olivia," he reasoned, "It may not seem logical, but I can tell that you care about him. It's okay. If you can just get past this fucked up mentality of yours, so you can love yourself, and allow others to love you, things would get better for you."

The truth was never pleasant, and Olivia loathed to hear it from people who knew her best. Instead of lashing out, all she could do was sigh.

"I don't know."

Stephen replied, "I think you're choosing not to see how a person can care about you. Flaws and all."

Taking a moment to process it all, Olivia pinched the bridge of her nose. "I'm the worst at this."

"I know, and I won't let you mess this up again. We're having a viewing party at my place next Friday. You have to be there anyway and he'll be back in town. Just giving you a heads up."

* * *

When a person's whole being was motivated by the art of dance, it was difficult to do anything else. The rhythms, formations, details, and movements — all of these elements were connected to give Olivia constant life.

It was a rare off-day, so typically, she would have a simple breakfast, clean, and spend a few hours at the studio. It appeared to be lame, but Olivia didn't want to be anywhere else. Always needing to stay ahead of the competition, even when she was alone. The restrictions that were placed on her were a non-factor. All that was required for Olivia — a mirror, some music, and her body.

The room was fairly clear of distractions, other than two dancers were working on a piece. She was able to use the other half of the space to clear her head and practice. She didn't know them, so it was easy to mind her business.

As Olivia sat down in a wide straddle to warm up, one of the dancers came over.

"Hi."

"Hello. What's up," She asked with a little irritation.

The dancer appeared to be nervous when she talked. "Hey there, I heard that you were in that video with Fitz Grant."

Olivia's eyebrows lifted. She was shocked, not because the dancer knew who she was, but that it appeared the only reason why she looked familiar was because of him. Sliently, she nodded.

"Well, how was it?"

"The artist and her band were great. I liked the song. I wasn't expecting choreography to be involved, but it was a lot of fun." Olivia closed her legs, then lowered my upper body to the ground, creating a deep stretch.

The girl shook her head and laughed. "Oh, I don't care about that. How was he?"

Olivia's confidence took a major blow. No mention of her performance, which was very disrespectful. With a soft click of her tongue, trying not to sound too disappointed, she sat up and answered, "He was alright. Decent partner."

"That's so amazing," the young lady, who looked like a Paige, exclaimed. "He's such a great actor. Fucking sexy, and I think that's awesome you got to work with him. I bet he's wonderful!"

"Hmm, yeah, sure. So, I gotta get back to what I was doing," Olivia explained, very eager to get rid of her. Her eyes narrowed as she watched "Paige" chassé away to excitedly report to her friend. With a heavy sigh, she lifted herself up to standing. Yes, she was jealous.

Another reminder of how this could never work. There was no way she'd be able to thrive if she couldn't be seen as legitimate. How could anyone view her as a strong individual if she was attached to someone else, who meant more, did more. Was more.

Securing her headphones, Olivia began experimenting to a new favorite song. The strong piano chords prompted her to contract from her midsection regularly, then drag her foot a particular way, so she could turn effortlessly. The tempo changed every four counts — slow, then fast; heavy followed by rapid and sharp. Everything was painful — each arm swing, head roll, and leg extension.

The movement was mirroring how she was feeling. The desire to let go, but nothing was easy. Sweat began to collect on her brow, with tears drying on her cheeks, as Olivia continued to dance. Thirty minutes passed by, but she wouldn't stop until she knew this awful sensation of emptiness was gone.

But it never left.

* * *

Stephen's apartment on the Upper East Side, was incredibly gorgeous. His penthouse had all the amenities and was decorated to perfection. It was spacious, modern, and a prime example of New York living. One day, Olivia would be in this luxurious situation. She desired this lifestyle of luxury — not concerned about the next paycheck, having the capability to do whatever she want, and being at the top.

With the assumption that the watching party would be publicized, or have some type of mark on social media, Olivia made sure to dress for the occasion: a fashionable tank top, jeans, and sensible booties. Hair in a loose bun, with a makeup look that screamed "fierce". Even with her dreams of being catered to, Olivia took pride in maintaining her own beauty routine. She liked having control of her life, all the way down to the details.

The cab parked in front of the complex; Olivia thanked the driver and tipped him. She reapplied a touch of lip gloss as the elevator took her to the top floor. Stephen's apartment was only one of two residences on the particular level. Visiting wasn't a problem, Olivia had been to his place so many times, but this time was different. She was nervous to make this appearance, for obvious reasons.

Taking a long breath, she planted her feet and knocked on the door.

Stephen greeted her with a smile, a few moments later.

"Liv, you made it!"

"Yeah," Olivia stated, handing off a large bottle of Cabernet Sauvignon. Lowering her voice, she added, "You told me I had to be here or else."

Smirking, he agreed. "Why, yes, I did. Grab a seat, everyone's pretty much here."

Olivia paused to side-eye the host. He nodded, confirming her suspicions. About fifteen people were present, socializing and drinking. Not wanting to make a scene, she quietly blended in.

"Hey!"

The rest of the group waved and said "Hi" as she gave a half-hearted smile. As if she could already sense his presence, Olivia spotted Fitz. He was sitting on the couch, talking to one of the assistants, looking like the life of the party. She noticed how well he wore his blue t-shirt and jeans. With that world-famous crooked smile and bright eyes, and the way he laughed with his whole body, melted her heart. It was a fact. She missed him dearly.

Olivia continued to walk to an empty chair in the corner, not letting the sight of him, deter her opinions. She didn't need him to affirm her social status.

Being the affable host, Stephen shouted, "The food is on the balcony, so let's dig in!"

Olivia lingered while the crowd left to serve themselves dinner. Her nerves were building; it was only a matter of time before she and Fitz would talk, because how could two people continue to avoid each other and not talk?

"Hi."

She smiled to herself, hearing his beautiful voice. Letting her eyes meet his face, Olivia replied. "Hey there."

"How are you?"

"I'm alright," she answered, crossing one leg over the other. "Just sitting here. How are you doing?"

"I'm fine. Enjoying this shindig we're at," Fitz slipped his hands in his pockets, offering a friendly smirk.

"You look nice."

Olivia gestured to her outfit, doing her best to downplay the compliment. "I'm trying."

He nodded with understanding. "That's wonderful. I'm glad."

Never being the person to have butterflies or gooey feelings, but having him next to me and hearing his voice, made Olivia's heart skip numerous beats. Being antsy wasn't part of her system either, but there was something about Fitz Grant that threw Olivia Pope off guard.

"Are you ready to see the video?"

"Mmhmm," she confirmed. "Can't wait."

Quickly, Fitz turned away, not sure if Olivia's response was genuine or drenched in sarcasm. She returned to gaze at her hands. There was more she had to say, other than empty small talk.

"Hey. I'm sorry."

Fitz made a face that registered confusion. "For what?"

"The last time I saw you. I snapped at you, when I shouldn't have," she admitted carefully.

"It's fine. I understand." Fitz sat down across from her chair. "It was a long day for you, and you probably didn't need me stressing you out."

Her body slowly tensed — it was a pet peeve of hers for someone to put words in her mouth, assuming he or she knew best. "It's not fine. I got scared. I'm not good with getting close with people. Dance is my security. I don't have much to offer, Fitz. I don't know what you would want from me." That wasn't a lie. It didn't make sense to Olivia for a celebrity or anyone with a higher status to give a crap about anyone like her.

"I don't further your career," she explained. "I'm a nobody compared to you."

Fitz kept his gaze on her; his eyes darkened, and Olivia noticed at how firmly his jaw clenched. She could hear a little break in his voice as he talked.

"That doesn't matter. You're somebody to me, Olivia Pope. If you think I'm like the guys you're used to, you're dead wrong. I'm sorry that I came a little too strong for you, but I'm very attracted to you. I needed to let you know."

Olivia's mouth dropped in shock.

"I care about you," Fitz leaned forward, continuing, "And not knowing if you feel the same way…"

The balcony door opened as Stephen summoned everyone to return to the living room. Somewhat relieved of a potentially awkward situation, Olivia had to make moves.

"Shit, I didn't get any food yet," she rambled, jetting away, leaving Fitz, dumbfounded. She couldn't handle another round of those lovey-dovey confessions and she certainly needed fresh air. Taking several deep breaths, firmly gripping the ledge, Olivia attempted to compose myself. It was one of her go-tos. If she had stayed inside, Olivia would have failed and said something off. Closing her eyes, she allowed herheartbeat to regulate.

"Hey, we're about to watch," Stephen called.

Olivia threw a thumbs up before slowly crossing the threshold. As she moved back to the corner, a quick glance at Fitz confirmed that I fouled up a golden opportunity to be vulnerable and genuine with him. He lowered his head as she passed by.

It was a relief. Her walls — viewed as giving off "RBF" — returned, and once again, she was shutting him out. With a pursed lip, Olivia fiddled with her bun as Stephen stood in front of the television.

"I want to thank you all for making this project wonderful. I couldn't have done it without you. I hope you all are proud of yourselves. The video will be online tomorrow but I wanted everyone to get a first look. I want to personally thank Olivia and Fitz, for being so kickass."

Olivia forced a quick grin as everyone clapped. As much as she wanted to, she couldn't bring herself to look at him. She knew that he knew she was putting on a show.

As soon as the video started, bright colors covered the screen. The artist, whom Olivia didn't remember her name anymore, was belting about vague concepts and a need for approval, while shots of the band were shown. It must have been a catchy song because several voices in the room were heard, singing along. Olivia had started to lose interest when _he_ appeared. And then... she couldn't look away. She was in a trance, acknowledging at how Fitz was a star. A vision on screen. Everything was so blurry except them.

She watched with fascination at how they danced — everything looked effortless and she had to admit, they were fucking awesome together. The camera zoomed in on every piece of interaction. His eyes sparkled whenever they were dancing, and she had an aura that was unmatched; although the performance was only for the camera, it looked natural. Olivia shifted her gaze to everyone else. They were smiling, pointing, in awe of what they were seeing. Then she found him; his body had stilled.

She was watching him watch her on film. He was captivated at the sight of her. It was as if he wasn't looking for anyone else but her. That was something she didn't understand — all she was doing was moving. What did he see in her? His lips curled into another smile as soon as her face was shown, either grinning or when the camera shot was tightened.

But the moment faded. A rush of doubt and guilt covered Olivia and she cringed. Her mind wandered to self-loathing and toxic thinking. While the audience fawned over how well she and Fitz danced and connected on screen, she remembered of what she feared. Instead of being viewed as separate entities, Olivia was paranoid that everyone would see her as a perputal second fiddle, never been viewed as an individual who could hold on her own.

When the screen turned black, everyone cheered. Olivia felt a hand on her shoulder, shaking her out of her thoughts.

"Great job." A woman she didn't recognize, was beaming, hoping for some response.

Olivia responded with uncertainty. "Umm, thanks."

One by one, the other viewers showered her with compliments, asking about her next project. Remarking at how gorgeous she and Fitz were.

"You were fabulous," Stephen kissed her forehead. "We couldn't have done this without you. You and Fitz look amazing together."

It was a headscratcher. This was what Olivia wanted. To receive all the high praise, being noticed. But for whatever reason, it was overwhelming, and she needed more air.

Trying to be gracious, she thanked the guests, then escaped to the kitchen. The realization hit — she knew as soon as the attention pulled back, she would have to resolve matters with Fitz, and ultimately, with herself. For twenty-something years, she had never truly come to grips with her insecurities, hurt caused from the broken dynamics with her parents, and how she used dance and men as bandaids. It was all coming full circle.

Hearing everyone chattering, Stephen and his assistant began to hand out champagne flutes. Before she could receive a glass, Olivia grabbed her purse and headed for the door.

"Hey, where are you going?"

With sorrowful eyes, she kissed Stephen's cheek. "I'm sorry. I need to go home. Have a good night, everyone."

"Liv!"

Hearing the others' questioning meant nothing. Olivia pulled the door open and slammed it shut, but her feet couldn't take her far enough. Frantically, she pushed the elevator button. The It was taking too long, with each floor number being lit, way behind schedule, not on her timeline.

"Olivia, wait."

"Shit, shit, shit," she muttered, experiencing more dread as she could sense footsteps getting close.

"Hey, hey," Fitz spoke in an extra low, raspy tone, trying to calm her down. His fingertips circling the middle of her back, reviving a spark she had missed. "Are you leaving because of me? I'll go because this is your thing."

"Leave me alone, Fitz."

"No."

"Please," Olivia insisted, near tears. "I can't do this."

Fitz moved from behind her to softly cradle her face in his hands. Olivia didn't want to look at him again because she knew this wouldn't end the way she wanted. Her eyes shifted everywhere but where she needed to look.

 _Look at him._

"Olivia. Please. Look at me?"

Even as she fought with her inner struggle, his voice brought her back. To that calm place.

Finally, lifting her eyes, she whispered, "What?"

"Hey," he whispered against her neck. "I don't know what you're going through, but if you can, give me a chance, Olivia." His breath was so warm against her skin, she was ready to bask in it.

"I want to."

Fitz tilted his head, placing his lips on hers. There was no pause, there was no explanation for why he did this. Her head was telling to stop him, resist this. But with his proximity, the scent of his cologne, the way his thumbs rubbed her jaw, and her eyes closing, Olivia was feeling a different kind of peace.

It was like the first time she touched him, at that bar so many weeks ago. A time when she had reservations but the intense draw of a dark space and alcohol overtook her. But in this moment, there was only them, in the lobby. Olivia wanted to let go of all of the negative — experience some kind of freedom and finally admit that it could be reasonable to let someone have a piece of her. She wanted to allow Fitz to get close to her vulnerable and broken heart, and actually care for her soul and love her. Even with her flaws.

 _Let him in._

Hot tears wanted to fall, but Olivia's stubborness wouldn't let them. A loud sigh escaped as he pulled her closer.

Her insides ached, and finally, she used all pent up energy to kiss the fuck out of him. Olivia didn't want words, she wanted action. Fitz's grunts encouraged her prompt. Nibbling on his lips, Olivia wrapped her arms around his neck. There was no denying that whatever this was, was more than just a precursor to getting away and having sex. It was a special kind of healing.

She pushed him back against the wall, next to the elevator. They continued, standing so painfully close; the tips of their noses brushing against each other. Olivia moaned as Fitz held on to her hips; the struggle of wanting more and containing herself was nearly impossible.

The "ding" of the elevator surprised them. Actually disappointed with the abrupt interruption, and in disbelief no one from Stephen's opened the door to spy on them, Olivia leaned her forehead against Fitz's shoulder. She felt lighter.

"We..." she softly laughed, very much out of breath, "We should talk. About all of this."

Fitz hummed in agreement, with a Cheshire Cat-like grin. "We should. I'm all ears."

Olivia smoothed the wrinkles from her top, wanting to hide signs of a disturbance. "How about we go to the café across the street?"

"That sounds great. Let me say goodbye to everyone."

Just as Fitz pivoted to turn the doorknob, he turned back to Olivia. With a raised eyebrow and an incredibly sexy glance, he added, "Don't go."

This time, she didn't.

* * *

 _Thanks for reading. Next chapter will be the last._

 _xo_


	10. Chapter 10

Songs that inspired this chapter: "Touch" (Moss Kena), "You Give Me Something" (James Morrison). I highly recommend you to listen to these songs to get the vibe of this chapter. :) Enjoy!

* * *

 _I touched every part of you, but I can't touch your heart..._

Olivia wasn't expecting the switch. Before her soft moment in the hallway, she was standing her ground, ready to combat any type of opposition, and subsequently run. Then, once again, she got sidetracked, caught up by someone who she wasn't expecting to understand where she was coming from, or believing in some kind of good in her. She wanted to slip away, leaving the expectations of the people who were inside that room. But Fitz took the next step, meeting her halfway, in her darkest hour.

"C'mon," Fitz said, taking her hand, as they journeyed outside from Stephen's apartment. The elevator ride was uneventful, with the exception of two long kisses and intriguing exchanges. They decided to walk around, instead of sitting. Maybe Fitz understood of Olivia's need to keep moving, instead of staying still. It boggled her mind how observant he was of her.

As they strolled, Olivia remained quiet with the sounds of the neighborhood's activities creating a warm ambience. Assuming that she was lost in her thoughts, Fitz gave her a nudge.

"Hey. What's going on right now? What are you thinkin' about?"

"Nothing," she admitted, inching closer. "Just needed a minute."

The spark was electric when Fitz leaned forward, kissed her temple, and rubbed his thumb against her hand. His voice, soft, and low, was actually comforted. "That's okay. But I would love to add...You think you're hard to read, but you're not. What keeps you from letting others in?"

"What are you talking about?"

"You heard me."

Taken aback by his snarky comment, Olivia retaliated with an extremely vague answer.

"Everything."

"Everything is holding you back? Everything," he asked with an incredulous laugh, obviously intrigued.

Olivia faced him, square in the eye, fascinated by that ungodly chiseled jaw, and passionate blue eyes, while repeating herself in a drawn out form. " _Everything._ "

"You know you have to explain," he squeezed her hand tighter. "Because I need answers."

"What do you want to know?"

"As you simply put it, everything."

Olivia rolled her eyes, because she knew he was teasing her. "Fuck off, Grant."

Fitz reacted to her muttering by winking. "If I could, I would, Olivia Pope. But that's not possible."

"Alright, ask away."

Taking a dramatic pause by licking his lips, Fitz began his inquiry. "Tell me why is it so difficult for me to get to know you, before you push me away? Why can't we have a normal conversation before you look at me like the devil?"

Olivia's mind started to race as she frowned, realizing she had given personal facts to him, other than what was necessary. It was how she operated. There was a reason to be distant from others in order for her to get her life together. There was much to hide, but she never had the right opportunity to open up. Her past experiences ended in turmoil and were so raw to the touch, she never wanted to share. In her mind, there was no room to look, feel, or be weak.

"You don't have to tell me everything, just something. So that I can understand," he gently offered.

Olivia closed her eyes, unsure of what would happen if she went forward with this. It was terrain she was not familiar with. After a long sigh, she rewarded Fitz with the answer.

"I wasn't the ideal. No one expected me to succeed as a dancer. I'm not tall enough. Nothing would stand out. A wannabe from little ol' Rehoboth. I was never good enough — always placed in the back. Never got picked to debut compositions during recitals. I accepted that for a while. But then, I got angry one day because it made no sense as to why I kept getting passed over. So, I worked my ass off in class for years until I made it. Rejection is a bitch, but I had to survive and make my dreams happen. It was only a matter of time until everyone wanted me in their group. But then I couldn't trust anyone. I didn't want to be a token. I wanted to be the best and no one could deny that. Being at the mountaintop is great, but at the same time, it's lonely as shit."

The confession was taking her own breath away; she had never been this candid with anyone. Ever. It fucking scared her. As she revealed her truth, his eyes were fixated on her the whole time, paying close attention, as if her monotone narration was the most intriguing piece of information to him. For once, she could not decipher what he was thinking.

Instead of waiting for Fitz to interject, Olivia continued, but only in a hushed volume.

"That was hard, but what made me shut everyone out was this: Harrison and I were only raised by our grandparents. My parents couldn't deal with us, I guess. Both of them were fucked up in their own ways. I was never told why they left. My Nana refused to answer me after so many sit downs. Then, it became so embarrassing to dodge questions from my friends. We were the outcasts and that scarred me to get ridiculed constantly and seeing Harrison depressed. So I gave up and told them they were government officials, always out of town."

"Livvie."

Her eyes shifted to his face. She needed to breathe, the soul-emptying confession took so much of her. After slowly counting to eight, she added the kicker. "I don't think I remember any good times with them. Lots of yelling and feeling as if I wasn't worthy of their love. Even though I didn't spend a lot of time with them, I know I am a product of their toxicity and I do see similar traits. Mostly, I try to ignore. But I don't know. That was a dark time in my life and now I don't c-".

Olivia caught herself before the lump in her throat decided to betray her. Fitz looked so heartbroken - definitely reminiscent of the characters he played. She never told him, but during the lull of communication, she found the necessary footage of him, longing for him, hoping he'd come back. Compassion appeared to wash over him as his hand pressed on her cheek.

"I'm so sorry. I didn't know."

"Of course you wouldn''t."

The severity of her harsh reply, made Fitz sigh. She needed to reset, _again_.

"Sorry. The thing is, you wouldn't know because I don't tell people and honestly, it's none of their business. I want them to see me, for me, not pity or judge me because of my circumstances."

After a few beats of silence, Fitz closed his mouth, faced forward, and grunted. Olivia watched him for a while when a smirk appear and that pissed her off. She allowed herself to be vulnerable with him, and somehow, he turned this quiet moment into some joke.

"Oh, really? This is funny to you now?"

He shook his head.

"What?!"

"Well, for starters, you don't play fair. You assumed the worst of me, because of my situation," Fitz firmly stated. "In your mind, on day one, I was the asshole who was trying to ruin all of your moments. Not even once thinking I wanted to be your friend. That's what you did and you know that."

Olivia's eyes bulged, while Fitz grinned some more, knowing how her feelings made her gullible. He appeared to be satisfied as she tried to deflect her harsh blush.

"I guess you're right. I didn't think about that."

Fitz slightly raised his eyebrow. "Just saying. Now, do you want to flip the switch and ask me tough questions?"

Pursing her lips, Olivia waved off his suggestion. "That won't be necessary."

"C'mon," Fitz playfully whined, "It's only right, Olivia. You want to get back at me for prying."

Finally, something popped into existence and I wanted to let him have it.

"What's so fascinating about me, huh? I'm supposed to believe you strutted into my studio, acting like a hot shot, and as soon as you saw me, you made a big deal out of getting to know me? Why do you even care about me?"

Fitz shot a glare then pulled out his phone. Olivia waited for an answer, but he remained silent. Her interrogation must have made a resounding impact on him because he kept tapping away at whoever he was messaging. If he couldn't explain the reasons for these games, there was no chance for them.

Then, it dawned on her. She did want him around. Who else could have challenged her so much, to the breaking point, and lead her to find a silver lining to her fucked up view of life? It was him. She didn't know of anyone who was that persistent. Fitz was correct — she did assume the worst, and he was always discovering the best. Olivia needed someone like him in her world.

Fitz's voice broke through the silence.

"I think you deserve to be appreciated for more than being a stellar performer. As much as you like to act and present a façade that no one wants to tear down, you have feelings. You hurt and smile and laugh as much as the next person. Now I know that you are used to being forgotten. But I don't want to forget you. You have a beauty that draws me in, and I want to know that woman. I think...no, I am sure that I'm falling for you."

A car stalled in front of them.

"It's our ride. Come on."

Accepting his hand, Olivia exhaled a sigh of immense relief, terrified of what was to come.

The ride was quiet. She continued to study Fitz, attempting to figure out his deal.

"Let's just sit here. You don't have to say anything."

Tears began to flow, as Olivia snuggled into him. He kissed her cheek, leaning his head against hers.

"I got you."

Fifteen minutes later, the car stopped. Olivia distracted herself to find money, Fitz handed off a wad of cash to the driver.

"Thanks for everything, Sir. We appreciate it so much."

As Olivia got out of the car, she realized they were in Manhattan, in front of a nice hotel. She was so out of it, focused on just being still, she didn't pay attention to their whereabouts.

"Why are we here?"

Fitz gave her a classic "shy boy" stance as he pushed his hands into his pockets, replying with caution. "I thought we could get away. Chill, watch TV, maybe talk some more. Is that okay?"

Reading into his question, Olivia wondered - was it alright? Was she going to give him permission to tiptoe into her mind and possibly, her heart?

The timing to think everything through was vital, before she could him her final answer.

* * *

 _'Cause you give me something_  
 _That makes me scared, alright,_  
 _This could be nothing_  
 _But I'm willing to give it a try,_  
 _Please give me something_  
 _'Cause someday I might know my heart._

"Hey. I don't know if Stephen or anyone called you, but I left the party early. Don't worry. I'm just...with Fitz. Told him we could talk, so...yeah. Just text me if you need anything. Love you. Bye."

Outside of the concept of dance improvisation, Olivia was not a believer in spontaneity. She liked patterns and routines, and usually never strayed from them. The obligatory phone call to Harrison wasn't only to let him know she was safe, but also giving herself extra time before making this decision. Maybe hearing her brother's voice would mentally sober her up. She didn't want the prospect of another round of attention-getting fog up her night.

Finally, she asked Fitz, who was being surprisingly patient, leaning against the wall next to the elevator. "Ok, so what's in it for me?"

He cocked his head to the side, letting a few strands of his brown hair fall. "What do you mean?"

"I don't think I'm ready. What if I completely screw this up and waste time?"

"You deserve to experience something new, Olivia," he replied. His voice lowered, "I would never hurt you."

Automatically guarding herself with arms crossed, Olivia didn't respond. She knew he wouldn't do anything detrimental, but everything from her past flooded her thinking, as if it happened seconds earlier.

"I just...don't know."

Then, she witnessed Fitz's demeanor transition. His jaw began to clench, eyes squinting. The blue eyes that usually portrayed kindness, were glossed over with anger.

"I get it. If you want to stay on this fucked up see-saw, be my guest. I can't stand it when you go back and forth. You seem interested, then you question every last thing I say. I'm leaving tomorrow night and if you decide this won't work out, I'll leave you alone. Never bother you again. But never think that I didn't want you. Because I do."

"There's too much pressure I put on myself to be the best. I told you that, Fitz."

"And you think I don't know how that is? Huh? Really, Olivia," he questioned, voice raised, and arms extended. Taking a slight step forward, "I know how you feel - probably more so."

"Okay. Fine. I see you're a great job guilt tripping me, once again."

Hearing him scoff and grunt took the argument up a notch.

"You know damn well that's not what I meant to do!"

"Then what the fuck are you doing?" Olivia had marched to him; they were figuratively nose to nose, glaring at each other, ready to fight back. But then, her eyes shifted to her left. They had a small audience, looking just as uncomfortable. She scurried off to another elevator down the row. Fitz followed.

"Wait."

"You are truly a piece of work. I shouldn't even be here."

Fitz stood next to her, giving her enough space, to think. He demanded in a whisper, "Stop running. I can't keep chasing you. And I don't want to walk on eggshells when we're talking. I know it's been rough, but we need to do this. You said you wanted to talk and here we are. So, would you want to try again? I'll make it worth your while. Start over and talk? Just chill over drinks?"

Amazed by his firm speech, and at the same time, intrigued, Olivia carefully stated, "You don't have any new gimmicks? That's what you said…when we first met. Got anything else, Grant?"

The bridge of Fitz's nose crinkled as he suddenly burst into laughter. "You're right. I'm not perfect, but I will do my best to prove your assumptions wrong."

Slowly, Olivia's lips turned upward; she could never resist a good sense of humor and amazing charm. Fitz had a special way of relieving tension and that is exactly what he did. The layered build-up of anger was dissipating and honestly, too exhausting. It needed to end. His promise convinced her.

"Alright," she deferred, "What are we waiting for? Lead the way."

Fitz smiled, pressing the elevator button. "Okay."

It would have been a bold-faced lie if Olivia didn't think she was nervous. She couldn't get over the "hardcore" front she had pulled for so long. Being honest and vulnerable could be okay. Might as well start in this moment.

"Make yourself comfortable," Fitz invited. "I'll get us some water or whatever you want."

"Do you happen to have any red wine?"

"Sure! Good thing I bought some last night."

Olivia plopped on the couch as Fitz joined her with the drink. A drink would absolutely calm her down, after all that bullshit downstairs. She kept forgetting how stressful being with a man could be. Or ridiculous she had been, fighting so hard.

As she received her liquid gift, Olivia eyed his selection. "You like Scotch?"

"Absolutely," he winked. "'My drink of choice. It's a cardinal sin not to. The Grants are Scotch drinkers. That's what we do. Ya know, I was drinking this when I saw you at that bar."

"Oh, yeah?"

"Yeah."

"You were so pretty, I had to go up and talk to you," Fitz admitted, taking a sip from his glass. His eyes trained on her.

"You're kidding."

He chuckled, "Nope. When Stephen introduced us, I knew I wanted to get to know you better. I was stunned by your beauty."

"But didn't you notice that I was acting so cold towards you," she questioned, before drinking some more. "I was trying very hard to get you to leave me alone!"

He shrugged and made a face. "Yeah, but I assumed you were just doing that for a reason. I was a stranger — you didn't know me. As we got to talkin', I was hoping you'd change your mind."

To hear Fitz's reasoning with such innocence, it somewhat broke her heart. He wasn't trying to one-up Olivia, only wanted to get to know her better.

"Yeah..."

Olivia stared at her glass, as if something life-changing was floating around. It was very obvious that she had been a jerk to the man next to her.

"I'm glad you're here, Livvie."

She closed her eyes, letting his words permeate. It had been so long since she felt such emotion like this. No one gave her what Fitz was offering. Was this love?

"Are you hungry? Would you like something to eat?"

Olivia sighed and grinned, felt relieved by the new topic at hand. "I wouldn't mind a burger. The food at Stephen's didn't cut it." She smirked at her own jab as Fitz paused, eyes large with concern.

"It wasn't an insult. Stephen just doesn't provide the kind of food I need. I need real stuff, not bougie finger foods."

Fitz chuckled. "Oh, I get it. Okay, let's see what we can find."

He called the lobby for two burgers with fries. After, he stood, and gestured to his room, "I'm going to change, is that okay?"

Olivia nodded, stretching her legs. "I can handle being by myself."

After he closed the door, she allowed herself to think. Now that the video was over, it began to settle that unless she made a conscious effort, they wouldn't be seeing each other. She wasn't sure if this would be the best ending to whatever they had.

A knock on the door prompted Fitz to return. He was wearing a tighter white tee shirt, along with those form-fitting jeans, that the universe made to taunt her. His ass stuck out like no one's business and Olivia had no choice but to stare.

"Here ya go. Bon appétit."

Raising her glass, Olivia let it clank with Fitz's. She knew she was in trouble when their eyes met, and she could see the contentment and joy in his face.

They started eating their meals, with Olivia clearly enjoying every bite. Her brother sent a return text so she had her side conversation with him. Between bites, she'd peek over, finding out what Fitz was up to. He must have been starving because he ate his meal with such gusto and wasn't talking. She sort of felt embarrassed, because she was a little jealous of that burger, getting such passion from its' consumer.

"You have such a large mouth," she confessed, revealing to him that she had been staring at every move of his for the last ten minutes. Every blink, twitch, lip pucker, and "omm" spoken as he enjoyed the last bites of his food.

A cocky grin appeared as Fitz casually rubbed his chin, then glanced at me. Those blue orbs threw Olivia for a loop; she couldn't tell if she offended him or possibly gave him the best compliment. Her eyes remained on target as he shifted closer - there was no space between them now; their bodies were basically overlapping. His lips tickled her ear as he answered:

"Thank you. I take pride in it. Gives me a better opportunity to taste everything. Including all of you, my dear."

Olivia was so shellshocked, her jaw dropped immediately. Laughter or a gasp could have sufficed, but she was frozen. It was obvious Fitz liked to push the envelope, but to be so upfront sexually. That turned her on; she knew he was true to his word.

"Wow. Wouldn't mind getting some of that on my menu," she added sarcastically, facing forward, hoping to cool down the moment. But she glanced back at Fitz.

With a knowing expression, he promised, "That can be arranged."

Olivia stuffed two French fries in her mouth, captivated by the simplicity of his intent. He wanted her.

"You're such a lil' shit."

"I know," he teased, before kissing her temple. "But I wouldn't mind being your lil' shit."

Feeling her heart skip several beats, Olivia fired back, "You're too big to be little."

After they finished, Olivia and Fitz continued to lounge on the couch, enjoying the air conditioner. Fitz opted to lie down; his head was on Olivia's lap. Like cuddling with a beloved pet, she was getting her kicks into running her fingers through his hair. It felt so good. His face relaxed into a blissful state as she lazily touched him.

Everything felt calm. It triggered Olivia's memory; she couldn't remember the last time she deliberately hung out with a guy. Was this a date? There was a serenity about the moment, and temporarily, it startled her, but she chose to let it all happen.

She would have never imagined this happening in a hundred years. But what good is life if you don't get challenged by situations and people you're drawn to?

His eyes met hers, putting a rest to her rapid mental tug-of-war.

"Hey," he breathed.

"Hi."

"You know, I like this. No fighting, just being here."

"Yeah. It's nice," she confidently answered.

"I'm bummed the video is over. I'm going to miss seeing you all the time."

Olivia casually hummed. Fitz lifted his hand and reached for her face, and with his eyelids lowering, inviting her to get closer.

"C'mere."

She leaned forward and captured his mouth, with a warmth flooding through her being. His lips tasted so sweet against her own.

They had kissed many times, but this time, it was different. Olivia kissed him because she wanted to; not out of anger or hurt, or because she needed a boost out of loneliness. In that moment, she could see herself being with him. Because it just felt right.

"Thank you."

Fitz inquired softly, "For what?"

"For not rushing me."

"What do you mean?"

"No one has ever been this patient with me. Guys don't have time for me. I'm a bitch. I'm not even patient with myself."

With a soft glance, he replied, "I think you're wonderful."

Never approving of compliments, Olivia kept going. "You probably wanted something more since we met, but I wasn't looking for that. My mindset was somewhere else. Until now. So thanks for not being a douche. And umm..."

A few seconds had passed and she couldn't get the words out.

"Olivia?"

"Hmm?"

"What were you going to say?"

Feeling a blush on her cheeks, Olivia admitted, "I fail at heart-felt confessions."

"Try me."

"I... I want you to stick around. I want to get closer to you, Fitz. I want you in my life."

Fitz rushed to lift himself to kiss her again, throwing her off-guard. After he pulled away, he finally said, "Best news I've heard all day."

Olivia laughed, wrapping a stray curl around her finger. "Really?"

"Yeah! Hey...What time is it?"

Olivia checked the time on the DVD player. "Ooh, 10:42."

"You wanna," he suggested, rubbing her leg, and gesturing towards his room.

Not thinking clearly, Olivia asked, "Huh? What, spend the night?"

Fitz stood, giving her a side-eye, as if she was crazy. "Yeah, I don't want you getting back late. Plus. I'd love to have you stay..."

"Oh? Oh. Yeah!"

He snorted then reached down to take her hand.

"Come with me."

Olivia never got tired of hearing that voice of his. A sweet combination of deep and raspy, with a hint of dominance. Even with his not-so-subtle invitation, he was still a gentleman.

Once they made it to the bedroom, Olivia sat on the bed, waiting for Fitz's next move. He was taking his time, pulling down his jeans, letting his cock spring free. Watching him built an unreasonable fire within of Olivia. The anticipation was exhilarating. In a rush, she disrobed, leaving nothing to his imagination. He looked perfect and Olivia wanted him to be inside of her, pronto.

"Hurry, baby..."

Fitz paused to see how antsy she was becoming. With his pants still on, but down to his calves, he carefully paced towards her like John Wayne in a shoot-out. Olivia had to giggle at this display. He smirked, elated by her full laugh. She licked her lips, hoping he'd take the hints that she was ready for him.

When he approached the bed, Olivia propped herself on her elbows, knees opening and legs spreading — they had a mind of their own. Fitz took one more step closer and hovered over her. She gasped lightly when he brushed his fingers up and down her thighs, creating shocks down her spine. Before she could say anything, Fitz descended to her center, making great use of his mouth.

"Fuck…'

Olivia slowly groaned, writhing, letting her body react.

She heard a faint "mmhmm" coming from between her legs; Fitz agreed to my statement as he continued to explore me. His long tongue laps, quick pulls on her lower lips and clit, and hungry moans quickly took her over the edge. Olivia's mind couldn't grasp how this man wanted her.

Fitz was treating her like a Queen. It seemed to be too good to be true, but she was choosing to accept this.

A strong wave hit her again as she came; by this time, Fitz had included his thick fingers. Those damned fingers that knew what Olivia needed, when she needed it. With her hands massaging his scalp, she attempted to remain calm, but that was a bust. She continued to wail as her body felt the effects of Fitz's beautiful work.

He slowly lifted his head and smirked.

"Bet you weren't expecting that, huh?"

Olivia rubbed her face, as her voice trembled. "No. I thought you just wanted to fuck and get what you wanted."

"I'm always going to find a way to surprise you. Please you. Make you happy that you chose me."

Fitz pressed his body onto hers. Since he was close enough, Olivia relished in the proximity. He was seducing her - physically and emotionally. Her eyes started to well up with tears.

"You don't even know...how that...made me happy."

Olivia watched his face lit up, before giving her another kiss. Already tasting herself, she pulled on his lower lip, waiting to get a rile out of him. His cock brushed against her bare skin. Olivia couldn't wait any longer, and the feel of his hardness, neither could he. She took matters into her own hands, dragging the denim away from Fitz's legs.

"Thanks, Livvie."

He moved away, looking for a condom in a suitcase.

"Since you ate me out, can I return the favor?"

"Nope," he rejected, taking care of business.

Olivia scoffed, wanting to give attention to him. "Why not?"

"It's all about you right now," Fitz explained, returning to the bed. "I'm eager too. But I'm gladly take you up on that offer in the near future."

He silently gestured for approval and Olivia nodded. The bed lightly squeaked as they weight sunk into the mattress. Fitz aligned himself to her hips, using his arms and hands as leverage. Going back and forth being rushing, and gradually connecting. It amazed her how good he felt as he slowly filled her. The determination shown on his face excited her more. She felt so vulnerable when he looked at her, but she was ready for this next step.

"Oh, Fitz..."

As they rocked back and forth, letting they rhythms sync, Olivia knew she was in awe of Fitz. Everything he was doing was perfect.

Words were not needed; they did too much of that, heated arguments and all. Lots of smiles, laughs, playful phrases, and toe-curling gasps were exchanged. Olivia smiled a few times when Fitz kissed her neck and chest. Paying attention to everything she liked. Olivia made sure to reciprocate.

He felt like Heaven.

"Oh my God," Fitz mumbled into her ear. "You feel perfect right now, beautiful. So, so beau-"

A loud burp echoed off the walls. Olivia's eyes widened in surprise and then she burst into laughter because this wasn't expected. At all.

"Yeesh, I'm sorry," he apologized, shaking his head. "Trying to be all romantic and my body betrays me! Damn burger."

Lifting her head, Olivia kissed his face several kisses in a row, while playing the hairs on his chest. "I. Don't. Care. I'll probably burp in the next five minutes. You're human and I love that. Now sit up. Please."

Fitz followed instructions. Olivia climbed up on top of him, pressing her hands on his chest. She wanted to please him as much as he had taken care of her. He groaned into my mouth as we reconnected. Everything was just too wonderful. Capitalizing on her dancer skills, Olivia rotated her hips, creating new sensations.

His hands were all over, on her taut stomach, her bouncing breasts, reaching for her face. Touch was becoming their thing. Always wanting to stay in contact.

Each kiss burned in her soul; every thrust making a mark, which would stay with her forever.

"Livvie," he sighed as she moved quickly.

A little bit after, she was calling out for him. Her eyes couldn't stay shut; everything was going so well and she didn't want the night to end. Thinking she'd fall over, Olivia begged Fitz to help, but his hands firmly gripped her hips. Her walls repeatedly clenched as she felt every groove.

"Fitz. Fitz, Fitz," Olivia called.

It didn't take long for them to switch again, with Fitz back on top, thrusting powerfully.

Finally, her stomach began to uncoil as she muffled her intense desire to scream with another kiss. Hearing him constantly grunt and moan was such an experience. He wanted this too. They held onto each other because there was nothing else to do. Somehow, they came, seconds apart. It was like every burden was being torn down as she allowed her body to experience everything. The stars were so bright, she didn't want to release fully and abandon all the feelings she had.

As her breathing slowed down, Olivia realized she didn't want to move out of Fitz's embrace, even though they were so sweaty. No words could express how she thought about him right now.

Snuggled in his arms, Olivia kissed his collarbone. His low, melodious humming made her smile.

"Hey."

"Hi, baby. "You okay?"

Wiping the sweat of her face, she replied, "Mmhmm. You're awesome."

"Thank you, ma'am."

I'm..."I'm so sorry."

Fitz lifted his head, looking at her with concern. "What? Why?"

Olivia rubbed his bicep as she apologized, "Forgive me for doubting you. Doubting this. I was so scared. But now, I see what's different about you and me."

Grinning like a lovestruck fool, Fitz asked, "Are you willing to give this a try?"

Without a moment to spare, she answered confidently.

"Yes."

* * *

 _Okay. I misspoke. THERE WILL BE TWO MORE CHAPTERS AFTER THIS. Twelve in all. I thought I could finish everything neatly, but that was not the case. I want to let you in on one more milestone for Liv._

 _Thanks for reading! xo_


	11. Chapter 11

_Songs I thought of when I wrote this chapter years ago: "Pressure" by The 1975 (where the story title comes from), "Dance With Me" by Marvin Gaye, "Not A Bad Thing" by Justin Timberlake, and "Tell Me" by Groove Theory._

 _Hope you like._

* * *

When a dancer is fulfilled, after a night of hard work and passion is over, nothing else matters. Her heart is satisfied, with goals accomplished and emotions full. Sweat and tears being a physical sign of all the dedicated time she had put forth.

Those moments were a collection of the life Olivia constantly dreamed of; she wouldn't change that for anything. But that only happened when she committed herself, body and soul, to dance.

Parallels showed themselves in her current situation. The struggles she endured dissipated when she allowed herself to let go of the hurt and feel something new with Fitz. His presence brought a transformation into her life she did not expect. A change that proved to be necessary.

And in that moment, Olivia knew she was happy.

Thin streams of light hit her face, breaking her restful sleep. Instead of scrambling out of bed in fear, she exhaled; the moment felt right. Olivia turned on her side, watching Fitz for a little bit, who was still deep in slumber. Bedhead galore, he snored softly into the pillow. His back, well-defined, subtly marked with small brown dots, slowly rose and fell in sync with his breathing. Somehow, she thought he was in discomfort. After thinking about the last time they spent the night together, Olivia assumed being on his stomach was his favorite sleeping position. Kinda cute.

They were so close, she was able to pay attention to the details on his face. It was so tempting to move her finger along to just touch him. Mentally returning to that fateful morning when she found herself in the same position; she was too eager to leave, get to her next destination.

Now, Olivia didn't move at all.

It took her weeks, seven to be exact, to realize that being with someone could be a good thing. Especially Fitz. She began to see herself with him — around town, observing rehearsals, at her place, traveling anywhere — beyond his departure back to Los Angeles. Not embarrassed to be associated with this guy. She knew had been such an asshole for pushing him away. There was a chance she could have lost him for good.

"Good morning," she gently called. There was such a sweet feeling, lying next to him. She couldn't describe it, but she knew something was changing when she peppered his shoulder blade with quick kisses. Fitz's lips curled into a smile after slowly opening his eyes.

"Hey, good morning to you. You didn't leave."

"I'm right here," Olivia inched closer, pressing her lips to his. "I didn't want to."

"Really? Good. Because I didn't want you to go." Fitz's eyelids lowered blissfully while swinging his arm around her. They cuddled in silence, getting reacquainted with each other.

"Hmm, this is awesome," he said, creating figure 8's on her arm with his finger.

"I agree."

Olivia yawned, closing her eyes blissfully. The deep stretch of her limbs was near orgasmic. When she finished, she realized Fitz was looking at her intently. Her eyes caught his subtle tongue swipe on his lips.

Fucking mesmerized by him.

To bring herself back to reality, she asked the important question.

"So...you're definitely leaving today?"

"Yeah, tonight," Fitz replied pensively. "But I can come back, if you want me to. I have some time before I film again. You tell me and I'll get here as fast as I can."

Olivia felt her cheeks rise as a small grin appeared on her face. Fitz was giving her hope and was showing himself to be a reliable kind of man. That was completely the opposite of what she was used to in her limited experiences of dating.

"I don't want you to rearrange your schedule for me."

"But I want to," he rubbed her stomach, "I will do what I need to. If you'll allow me."

"You seem to be here for the long haul."

Fitz smirked and answered matter-of-factly. "I am."

"That sounds good."

He sat up and linked his fingers with hers. "Rehearsal or dance class today?"

Olivia yawned again before answering. "Neither. Just going to relax, work on some choreography. Haven't heard back from the audition. But I want to be ready, just in case they want to see me again."

"Awesome," he smiled, before lowering his head to kiss her.

The spark of his touch caused a bold current that moved through her, all the way down to her toes. Feeling his thumb rub that small crook between her jaw and neck, as they confided in the treasure of their mouths, Olivia knew she was turning into a sappy puddle of feelings.

"You stayed," he mumbled in between kisses.

Her eyelashes rapidly fluttered while answering back. "Fitz. This really means something to you, doesn't it?"

He nodded, giving her a crooked smile. "It does. Had a few too many instances when people left, didn't stick around. I tend to love hard, and expect the same, but of course, that doesn't always happen. But this is good."

Like a heavy sigh of relief when the storm had finally passed, Olivia's heart was lighter.

The pressure to resist was gone.

"This is good."

A sweet Eskimo kiss, in between soft sighs and warm snuggles.

"I'm glad."

Olivia continued to smile as she cupped Fitz's face; "Me too."

* * *

 _1 and a 2 and a 3 and a 4_

 _1 and a 2 and a 3 and a 4_

After more cuddles, kisses, a fun, athletic round of glorious sex, and a bittersweet goodbye, Olivia took the train back to her apartment, to get back on her grind. Counting in her head and drilling steps into her body. As much as she was currently keen on Fitz, she needed to focus on my true love — the reason why she could have only met him in the first place.

Had to dance, had to move, had to breathe, had to live.

Arms cross, then down, cross and down.

Sway. Those. Hips.

Pas de bourrée, pas de bourrée, lunge forward and prep. Triple pirouette, step back into a lunge.

End with a firebird jump and pose.

Weight shift, Chassé downstage right, plié.

Since their apartment was rarely used, Harrison and Olivia were able to convince their landlord to allow them to create a practical yet artistic space in the apartment. With a few adjustments, the living room could turn into a mini-dance studio. It was quite convenient when weather didn't permit her to travel or she needed to work on choreo quickly, or needed some time alone.

A text from Stephen, informing of the need to visit. Olivia already knew he was going to rip her a new one for leaving the party. Regardless, she freshened up and waited for him. His signature arrival — four knocks, two soft, two loud, led her to the door.

"Liv!"

Stephen grabbed Olivia's shoulders, forcing a strong peck on her cheek, then moving into the apartment. Stunned, she closed the door.

"Hello..."

"We need to talk."

Olivia's eyebrows lowered, taken aback by the seriousness in his voice. It was so firm. "Okay..."

Stephen nodded and quickly asked, "Remember that audition you had last month?"

Immediately, Olivia let out a painful breath. She hated being in limbo when it came to her dance auditions. It would be easier to get rejected than to be strung along… The reminder of a horrible memory that felt like a harsh blow to the gut, almost making one sick. "Unfortunately..."

"Well," he started, pulling out a chair for her to use. "The choreographer liked you."

Twisting her lips, as she sat down, Olivia replied sarcastically, "Oh, really now? Certainly didn't like me enough to bring me back for the final callback, that I knew others attended. Why would you tell me this?"

Stephen rolled his brown eyes and spat out, "Hold up, Liv. Let me finish."

Crossing her leg over her knee, she relented in a biting tone. "Fine."

"Alyssa sent your audition video and resume to another agency. They love your form, drive, and work ethic. They saw our video too. They want you. On the West Coast. Rehearsals start in September; you'll be on the road a month later, but your base is in L.A."

Olivia wasn't able to compute anything he said. This didn't make any sense and must have been a straight up lie. She had never received a second chance like that from a company before. If she didn't receive a callback, it was usually one and done. Thank you, maybe next time.

"Don't pull my leg, Stephen," she sharply replied, not wanting more disappointment after a wonderful high with Fitz. "If this was the only reason why you came, to pull a shenanigan like this, I will kick you in your throat."

Stephen reached in his pocket, taking out his cell phone. "Why would I lie to you, Liv? Come all this way to just shoot the breeze with your fiery ass. I'll let you hear the message."

To her surprise, Olivia stood corrected, hearing words of acceptance and confirmation of a spot that was opened up for her. The opportunity was legit. She would be a featured dancer for a pop/electronica group. They needed extra performers during their sets.

"What? Wow," she sighed, doing her fucking hardest to not break down in any kind of emotion. "This...is great."

Stephen moved over to her, with a look of pride. "I know, right? Couldn't do this over the phone. Had to see your face. I'm so proud of you, my girl. I knew your moment would come."

Olivia covered her face to give herself a minute. Finally, an opportunity that could change her life and career? It sounded too good to be true.

"Umm," she bit her lip, feeling tears stream down her face. "Thank you, Stephen."

"Of course, we want you to succeed, Liv," he took her hand, kissing her knuckles. "Call Harrison."

Nodding, Olivia fumbled for her phone.

"Harrison?"

"Sis, what's wrong," he answered frantically, probably ready to leave wherever he was to get to her side.

Being so choked up, it was impossible to get words out. "Nothing's wrong," she confirmed, taking deep breaths, and almost giggling. "I think we may have a change of plans."

* * *

"Hello?"

"Hi."

"Couldn't wait to call me before I go?"

"I guess," Olivia rolled her eyes, while sprawled on her bed. As she flirted, there was a little bit of doubt filling her mind as she wondered if she should follow through with the purpose of the phone call.

"Fitz?"

"Yeah, babe?"

Olivia's breath hitched; she was not expecting him to call that. At all.

"Do you have any room at your place for me in a month?"

"Of course… Why?"

"I got offered a job in L.A. for 10 weeks and I was wondering if I could stay with you."

She squeezed her eyes shut after rambling, as if it would have dulled the anticipation.

"Olivia, that's fucking wonderful! I knew something would come up, and yes, you absolutely can stay with me."

"Okay, well, you don't have to give me a definite answer. I thought I'd ask you first. I don't have any friends over live there," she attempted to justify. "Well, none that I trust."

"You trust me?"

She ceased fiddling with her hair, a nervous habit she picked up since living in the City.

"Yes."

"Olivia?"

"Yeah, Fitz?"

"You can stay at my place as long as you need to. I would love for you to be here with me."

His response shocked Olivia more than the trust question.

"Really? Thank you."

"Yeah," he chuckled. "So, uh, I have about three more hours before I have to go to the airport. May I see you?"

Olivia beamed and her heart leapt at the thought of seeing Fitz once more. "Sure. Meet me at the studio?"

"Okay," he answered with a hint of intrigue in his voice. "I'll see you soon."

* * *

Olivia wanted to see him again in the place where their relationship took the next step. Arriving in front of the studio building, she took in the whole environment. This was her home away from home for three years. Countless memories of achievement and tears, but it all led up to this. As she sat down on the steps, she was reminded of the humidity of August in the City that was in full effect. The last month and a half moved shockingly fast and painfully slow at the same damn time. She wasn't expecting any of this to occur. Life shook her up silly and told her to sit her ass down.

"Hey," she heard him call.

"Hi."

Olivia fixed her gaze on him, smirking. In a grey t-shirt, dark denim jeans, and aviator sunglasses on his face, his outfit reminded her of the day they met. She judged him so harshly and quickly by what he was wearing. Man, she was dead wrong. So much was changing. She was changing.

"Whatcha got there?"

Fitz looked down at the large bag he was carrying. "Nothing much. Just wanted to have my stuff with me, just in case I lose track of time."

"Want to go in," she asked, bringing herself to standing.

Fitz's eyes sparkled. "Sure."

To her delight, the large room was empty — her absolute favorite thing in the world. Freedom at its best.

"Remember when you showed me how to do that pas de deux," Fitz whispered as his arm slyly curled around her waist.

Olivia's ears perked as she glanced at him, leaning back, with her jaw dropping to the floor. "What in the hell? I never taught you that phrase."

"I know. I googled it. See, I can take initiative," he said, placing a kiss on my temple. "Olivia, I told you. I was going to prove you wrong and make you feel a certain way about me. Hopefully for the better.

The answer made her light up, feeling like a giddy schoolgirl. "You're making progress, Fitz Grant."

She rose on her toes to kiss him. Fitz hummed, pulling her in, so there was no room in between them.

Surprising him, Olivia turned on her heel and chasséd to the stereo, connecting the Bluetooth from her phone.

"God, you move fast."

She ran back to Fitz, extending her arm towards him.

"Dance with me?"

Fitz bowed, then took her hand. "Of course."

Quickly, he pulled her into his arms. Olivai placed her head on his chest; they rocked back and forth. Step, touch. Step, touch. A pause here, ball changes over there. A new song's tempo changed, allowing their bodies to naturally move faster to the beat. Seeing Fitz enjoy himself as they danced and jump around, then hearing his heart beat as she leaned on him made her feel like a Princess, floating around with her Prince.

This was everything.

"I love this," she proclaimed, as the rhythm mellowed out.

Fitz pressed his hand on the small of her back, "Same. I love this. I love watching you dance. You're a dream."

Olivia looked at him, with gratefulness in her eyes. "You're the best."

"Hey," he whispered in a low register. "I wanna show you something."

She put her hands on her hips, as she watched Fitz took four large steps back, planted his feet, then executed a pirouette. It didn't even matter to that it was sloppy and so fucking exaggerated; it looked so cool.

Very impresed, Olivia cheered, "That was awesome! Do it again."

"Nope! An New York exclusive. Maybe I'll give you an encore when you arrive in L.A.," a cheeky Fitz replied. "C'mere!"

Wanting to tease him, Olivia decided to outdo him, and quickly chainé-turned to him. She used him as a spot to focus on as she rotated four times, in a high relevé, then sharply finishing.

"You are amazing, don't you forget this," Fitz chuckled, putting his hands on her hips.

"You are too. Thank you, Fitz."

In a trance, her eyes watched him for an answer, but no words followed, their angsty glances leading them to kiss. Hasty, but meaningful. Their hands pulling and reaching for anything they could grasp. Olivia sighed into Fitz's mouth, as if she needed him to breathe more, while grabbing at the bottom of his t-shirt and the loops of his jeans.

"We should go," he breathed with his forehead touching hers. "Somewhere else."

Olivia frowned, not wanting to stop. "Where?"

"Over there," she heard him say after a delay. She turned to find where he was referencing; the door that led to the closet with hula hoops, spare shoes, and other crap. There wasn't much room. Just enough space for me to extend my leg somewhere.

Usually, she was never one to defile a dance hall or execute a vile act in her holy corner. But Olivia wanted more and willing to risk it. It was their last night. For a while. Time to make it count.

They rushed in the closet. Fitz slammed the door behind him, and they returned to their "regularly scheduled program". Olivia pressed her back against the wall, groaning in Fitz's ear as he swiftly thrusted into her, slipping his hands underneath her oversized tank top. His fingertips were calloused, but agile, and felt amazing on her skin. If she wanted to rush, she would have come immediately.

"Damn, your rhythm has improved." She yelled, flinging her head back, nearly giving myself a concussion and blowing her cover from anyone who might have innocently entered the studio.

Seductively winking at her, Fitz huskily commented. "Fuck yeah, it has. But I always have rhythm where it counts."

They stared at each other for five seconds, before bursting out in laughter.

Fitz's eyes were shut, lines crinkled on the side; Olivia couldn't recall being so eager to join in and laugh with him. So full of life and joy. His smile was more adorable now that she was falling hard for him. Resistance was futile!

"Damnit, Fitz. This is ridiculous," she exclaimed, trying to sober up from her drunken kiss giggles. "We can't do this here."

He shook his head, eyes wide with passion. "Actually, we can. If you just put your hand here, and your leg, there."

Olivia's nose scrunched as she playfully shook her head. "Oh no, Sir. I can't get injured."

"No, we can't have that, but I can still kiss you right now."

Wrapping her arms around Fitz's waist, she purred, "Let's go, handsome."

"Ohhh," he sassed after kissing her jaw and neck. "We're doing pet names now? You're the one making progress, Olivia."

Using her thumb and index finger to squeeze on his earlobe, she retaliated playfully, "Shut up. Keep on doing what you're doing."

Olivia bit her lip, stifling a yelp as Fitz respectfully lowered her dance leggings so he could gain access, pushing her lace thong to the side, focusing on her clit.

"You like, dancer?"

"Fuck yeah."

Their kiss deepened, subtly interrupting themselves with giggles, new inside jokes, and more intimate touches.

After Olivia got her fill, she flipped the script, making sure Fitz was satisfied as well. Kneeling down, she had to see, feel, and taste him again.

"I use my mouth well, more than cussing you out, don't I," she teased, before licking the underside of his cock.

Fitz's abs contracted so much, she thought she was sucking the soul out of him. He loved that frisky side of her.

When they finished, casually exiting the closet, the relief of knowing no one was there. Their plan worked. She would never do it again, but it was sort of cool to do something spontaneous.

Olivia told Fitz she'd send him off to the airport.

"I'll see you in a bit."

"Yes, indeed."

Fitz lifted Olivia as they exchanged one more memorable kiss.

She watched him walk through security, waving goodbye, blowing a kiss, and off to the waiting area.

Back in the cab, Olivia did feel sad, but very hopeful and optimistic of their upcoming reunion.

Such a turnaround. It was now apparent to Olivia what she wanted. A different mindset.

To be happy with herself, her work, and to be with someone who would accept her.


End file.
